


Violet Skies

by notmyyacht



Category: Aladdin (2019), Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Crossover Pairings, Face-Fucking, Hand Jobs, Hate Sex, Hate to Love, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Masturbation, Porn with Feelings, Pre-Canon, Pre-Curse (Disney: Beauty and the Beast), Rough Sex, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-04-03 17:41:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 42,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21496897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notmyyacht/pseuds/notmyyacht
Summary: Another prince has come from a far away land to court Princess Jasmine, but when he arrives it is not her eye that he catches.
Relationships: Adam/Jafar (Disney)
Comments: 24
Kudos: 52





	1. Arrival

**Author's Note:**

> Ah, here it is, the start of my long-awaited Jafar/Prince Adam fic! =D 
> 
> I put this in the tags, but just FYI, this is pre-canon for both of them. Before the Prince gets cursed and before Jafar finds the Cave of Wonders. I date this about a year or two before both. 
> 
> Tags will definitely be changing and added to as I go. Comments and kudos are very much appreciated!!! Hope you enjoy this fic and this crossover ship <3

Another day, another suitor. This one was from the far west with flowered silks and bright pastels. Prince Adam from France. He greeted the Sultan with the level of pompous arrogance that many of the princes had come with. Something that was probably baked into the breeding of royalty.

It was unfortunate that Jasmine had grown ill the day before the French prince’s arrival; nothing serious, but it was enough to warrant seclusion from guests until she felt better. Thus, Prince Adam would have to wait. 

How convenient for her that she could delay having to deal with the prince, and how inconvenient for Jafar and the Sultan, who now had to entertain him until Jasmine was well enough to immediately send him on his way.

Jafar’s first impression of the prince was one he held for nearly every prince that stepped into the palace, which was simply: a spoiled brat who never had to fight for anything in his damn life. 

Prince Adam was no different. From the way he held himself to the way he spoke reeked of privilege, a high education, and a pampered life. He himself was a thing, not a person. A glimmering piece of art to hang on a wall and to show off. From his clean silks and the frills of his cuffs to those glistening blue eyes and shining golden hair, he was the best the West had to offer. 

He was beautiful, but he also appreciated beauty. 

“The architecture here is extraordinary,” he commented as they showed him around the palace. It wouldn’t be the last compliment.

At least the brat had manners.

They - the Sultan, Jafar, and the French Prince - had stopped in the middle of a hallway to discuss Jasmine’s illness when Jafar spotted Hakim approaching them out of the corner of his eye. 

“I do hope your princess does not grow worse,” said Prince Adam, a hint of irritation about the possibility lacing his tone. 

“Do not worry,” the Sultan replied, “she is already doing better than yesterday. You won’t have to wait long to meet her.”

Hakim bowed as he approached.

“My Sultan,” he said before leaning in to whisper into the Sultan’s ear. Jafar watched exhaustion build on the Sultan’s face. He knew that look. Usually it was saved for when Jasmine did something she should not. Jafar briefly wondered if she was as sick as she claimed to be.

The Sultan nodded to Hakim then turned back to his company. 

“If you will excuse me. Something has been brought to my attention that requires my presence. Jafar, will you be so kind…?”

“Of course,” Jafar said, inclining his head. His grip tightened on his staff as he watched the Sultan follow Hakim back down the hall. 

He hated this. Damn you, Hakim, for making the Sultan leave. For making him have to babysit-

“That’s quite an interesting staff you have there.”

Jafar forced his jaw to unclench as he turned to Prince Adam. 

“Thank you,” he replied, managing a fake smile. 

They stood there a moment, the heat of the day thickening the air by the minute. At last, Jafar broke away and continued down the hall, Prince Adam following at his heel.

  
  


Adam stared blankly into the mirror he sat before as Plumette touched up his hair and the faint makeup that kissed his skin. It wasn’t the snow white powdered makeup that he saved for balls and fancy dinners with visiting French nobles. His father would probably make him wear that shit for tonight’s dinner if he was here.

‘You must present yourself as perfectly refined as possible,’ he would say. 

Adam actually rather enjoyed dressing up with wigs and the heavy makeup, in fact he loved it, but only in the comfort of France. There was something about being too extravagant in other countries that put him off. Last time he went all out was with the royals of England; it only earned him and his father judgmental looks. Of course, it became just another reason for his father to yell at him later. As if high French fashions were all invented by Adam alone. 

It wasn’t his fault that most other countries were boring.

And now here he was in Agrabah. He had never been this far east before and he had to admit it was absolutely stunning. What the country lacked in the color of its scenery it made up for in its architecture and its fashions. It seemed almost a fantastical inversion of what he was familiar with in France.

In France, designs on clothing and buildings were detailed, but open. Agrabah was more closed in, but not claustrophobic; more like, everything was as open as it needed to be rather than being open just because it  _ could  _ be. Adam’s guest suite had a much lower ceiling than his bedroom at home, but not in any way that was ugly or unappealing. 

French colors in design and fashion leaned more towards light and airy, while Agrabah was steeped in rich, deeper color. Not dark, but vibrant. The use of white complimented the color instead of adding to it. 

Adam was intoxicated by it all; he made a mental note to have Lumiere browse the marketplace for fabrics before they left.

“There we are,” said Plumette, stepping back to appreciate her work. 

Adam blinked rapidly, her voice dragging him from his thoughts. He looked at himself, slightly turning his head from side to side. It would have to do. 

He stood, Plumette quickly running to his side to make sure there weren’t any wrinkles in his blue dinner jacket.

Poor Plumette was forced to do the work of three servants, no thanks to the French king. Adam had only been allowed two along with the guards for his journey and while Plumette was the best, he could only pity her having to take up the slack. 

“Sire, you look incredible,” said Lumiere from the far side of the room.

“Thank you,” Adam replied, then grumbled, “It’s too bad the princess won’t see me.”

This trip had been a disaster thus far. How exasperating for Princess Jasmine to be sick upon Adam’s arrival, leaving him to have to be entertained by the Sultan and his vizier. While the Sultan was a good enough conversationalist, the vizier less so. 

Not that the man didn’t speak, but he didn’t seem to be particularly interested in Adam’s presence. When the Sultan was called away earlier that afternoon, the grand vizier - what was his name? Ja-something? - had grown cold towards Adam. He had continued to show him around the palace, but without any enthusiasm. As if simply being there with Adam was a chore.

Joke was on him. This entire trip was a chore for Adam. 

Court Princess Jasmine indeed! Even if she was beautiful and she agreed to marry him, where would they live? Princess Jasmine was the Sultan’s only heir, and whoever married her would have to rule in Agrabah. Surely the French King didn’t expect his son to move to a foreign country. Much less this country. Despite his attraction to the culture, it was too damn hot. He had been told that it remained so most of the year. How vile. No one seemed to think this through.

Adam adjusted the cloth around his neck with a frown. It was all a show. He only prayed the princess recovered quickly so that she could officially turn him down and he could return to France as soon as possible. 

  
  


Jafar was sure his knuckles would bleed if he continued to rap upon Jasmine’s chamber door as hard as he was. He hadn’t been out there long, but from the haste with which he pounded, one would think the palace was on fire.

There was a shout of “Just a minute!” before the ornate door cracked open. Dalia stood there, her expression professionally blank.

“Grand Vizier,” she stated, her brow furrowing.

“Where is she?” Jafar hissed. 

“In her bed, resting,” Dalia replied, her grip on the side of the door tightening. 

_ Ready to shut it in my face, are you? _ Jafar thought with a frown. He glanced over Dalia’s head into the chamber. He couldn’t see much, but enough to see the curled up lump under the blankets of Jasmine’s bed.

He feigned a casual smile. Dalia narrowed her eyes suspiciously.

“How bad is it?” he asked.

“Not as much as the Sultan was fretting. She just needs another day of rest and she’ll be fine.”

Jafar eyed her a moment. Dalia was never a particularly good liar; unless she improved upon her deception skills overnight, then it was more likely she was telling the truth.

“Good.” He straightened his posture. “Tell the princess that the sooner she recovers the better. There is a prince here, eager for her hand. He’s come a long way and it would be best if she could see him as soon as possible.” 

He bitterly regretted the eagerness that vibrated in his tone at the prospect. It wouldn’t do any good to be seen encouraging Jasmine’s consistent rejection of suitors.

Unbothered, Dalia forced her own smile.

“I’ll deliver the message,” she said.

“This prince is her responsibility and neither her father,  _ nor I  _ should have to look after  _ her _ suitor,” Jafar sneered. 

Dalia’s forced smile changed into a more genuine one. 

“You had to babysit him, didn’t you?” she said, grinning wide now. “What’s this one like?”

Jafar shifted from one foot to the other.

“Like all the others,” he admitted. “Rich, spoiled, shameless, undeserving.”

“Exactly like the others, then.”

“He bragged about how he was the best dancer in all of France. Prince Adam might have been blessed with good looks, but he severely lacks modesty. I’m sure Princess Jasmine will fall in love with him at first sight.” Jafar rolled his eyes. 

“Good looks?” 

“One of the prettiest princes to grace our halls,” he said through his teeth.

Dalia chuckled, her eyes narrowing slightly at Jafar’s words. 

“I’ll be sure to tell her what a charmer he is.”

  
  


Princess Jasmine was not to join them for dinner. Probably for the best. Adam didn’t want to get sick. Still, spending his time in Agrabah solely with the Sultan and his vizier would grow dull soon. 

The Sultan was droning on about something relating to a compliment Adam had given about a native fruit. Adam had stopped paying attention almost immediately, though he had enough practice to know how to pretend he was enraptured by whatever the old fool was saying. 

A part of him was already thinking to hell with it all, and leave tomorrow morning. Tell his father that Princess Jasmine had turned him down immediately. 

The Sultan must have said something amusing, for the nobles at the table all lightly chuckled; Adam did the same.

He took a sip of his wine, idly looking across the table… where a pair of poisonous dark eyes met his. Adam continued to drink his wine, pretending to listen to the Sultan. 

_How long have you been watching me? _he wondered, not quite holding Jafar’s gaze. Yes, Jafar, that was the man’s name._ Was it when I sat down? Or perhaps you’ve noticed I’ve stopped listening. How long ago did _you_ stop listening?_

The Sultan must have either paused for breath or stopped talking altogether, because suddenly there was a different voice in the air. 

“Are we boring you, young Prince?” 

All heads turned to Jafar. 

“Jafar,” said the Sultan, sounding much like an irritated parent warning their child to be quiet with tone alone.

Adam smiled.

“Why, not at all. I’m very interested in the trade of produce from the fig trees of Shirabad with the silks of Agrabah.” Okay, maybe he was paying a little attention. It didn’t seem to deflate Jafar at all.

“No doubt you’ve studied countries that essentially live off trade. Though, I’ve heard France has far more military might than its polished and powdered exterior would have unsuspecting nations believe,” he replied, keeping his tone level despite the prodding. 

“France is living in peace, currently. Though I have read that Shirabad is also known as more than just a fig trader. That she, too, has quite an impressive military operation.”

The entire room had gone silent as everyone listened to their exchange. 

Adam continued, “Not that I know much about the military or soldiering. I find the violence of war quite vulgar.”

“Then you must know nothing about war or leadership. I suppose that says much about your relationship with your title.” Jafar’s words left a thickness in the air. If there was silence before, there was shock now.

“ _ Jafar _ ,” the Sultan growled. But Jafar paid him no mind as he sipped his wine, his gaze not once breaking contact with Adam’s. “Prince Adam, I must apologize…” the Sultan began.

A smirk played at the corner of Adam’s mouth as he held up a hand.

“No need, your highness. The man was simply stating his mind. After all, I’m a stranger in his country and we hardly know each other.” Adam sat up straight as he eyed Jafar from across the table.

About time the bastard showed his true colors. If Adam’s presence was going to be a chore for him, then Adam was going to make himself an exhausting pain in the side: something so infuriating that Jafar would feel the aches Adam had left him long after his departure.

“After all,” he continued, “some men are born fighters, others are lovers. I consider myself a lover. A lover of art and music, song and architecture. I love the way we perceive the world. Those who prefer the twisted beauty of destruction can never learn the steps of a dance. They may try to, but dancing for some men is tedious and frankly they’re just not good enough.” The smirk returned as he added, “I pity their dance partners.”

It was a subtle enough jab, but it was one that seemed to hit Jafar in a way that he was expertly covering up. A simple twitch of the eye. 

“It is not all about destruction, but about building something new. Something that cannot be understood by those who have roots in the oldest of traditions,” Jafar rebutted without missing a beat.

“Yes, of course. But tradition can keep a kingdom safe in times of hardship. Isn’t that right, your highness?”

The Sultan looked relieved to be brought into the conversation, as if he could change the direction it was heading, but as he opened his mouth to speak, Jafar interjected.

“War can fall under the wide canopy of ‘times of hardship,’ depending on which side is losing.”

“I suppose it’s all a dance then, is it not? How like a dance we go in circles, repeating ourselves. Relying on the known in order to understand the unknown between two partners. It’s all intertwined.”

“Are you suggesting that the lovers and fighters are the same?”

“Not at all. Only that the lovers and the fighters are constantly dancing, never quite meeting and with no clear winner. It’s not a game, though fighters wish it were.”

“And this conversation…?”

“Absolutely pointless,” Adam concluded with a grin. “We’re both two different kinds of people with two different viewpoints of the world. We can talk and dance around subjects, but we’ll never properly see eye-to-eye.”

Jafar paused and looked away as if considering something. 

_ I’ve got you _ , thought Adam. 

“Quite philosophical of you,” Jafar stated, still not quite looking at him.

“I’m more learned of things than you give me credit for.”

“And how learned are you about marriage or ruling? You say you’re the lover, not the fighter, but what would you do in the face of war? Hypothetically speaking.  _ Dance _ with your enemy?” Jafar locked his gaze with Adam’s again. Adam’s jaw clenched as he continued, “Philosophy from a high education does not make you an expert. Not on winning the hand of a princess, nor on earning respect from a royal court.”

Adam sat there, his fists clenched and heat rising to prickle his skin. Gone was his smug smile, his easy-going demeanour that he had kept up for the Sultan.

In the back of his mind, a sliver of information - a rumor - that he had heard during his trip slithered to the front of his mind. He wanted to shout it; he dug his nails into the skin of his palms to keep from doing so. But no, this sliver was good. He could throw a table later. Now, he wanted to annihilate the man across from him.

“And you would know all about earning respect from a royal court,” said Adam, keeping his tone surprisingly level - Mrs. Potts would almost be proud of him. He had Jafar’s attention, so he continued, “I heard you had to start at the bottom to get where you are. The very bottom. The dirt of the streets, I’ve heard. The filth of the lowest of the low. Tell me, Royal Vizier, is it true?”

Jafar’s face paled, his own hands balling into fists. Adam almost wondered if he would strike him. He wanted him to. Give him a reason to leave Agrabah, maybe make an empty threat of political consequences. Send him home.

Adam watched him carefully, waiting for some kind of response.

At last, Jafar stood.

“If you’ll excuse me, my Sultan,” he stated, bowing his head slightly. The Sultan nodded; Jafar turned on his heel and stormed out of the dining hall.

The Sultan waited a few minutes, before addressing the rest of the room.

“Please, as you were.” 

On command, the nobles returned to their own conversations they had abandoned.

Adam slumped slightly in his seat. 

“Prince Adam,” the Sultan started, “I do wish that conversation had not taken the path it had. Jafar’s past isn’t something we casually bring up around him. It is a long story, and it’s much more complicated than you were probably told. Where he is now in his life he earned through hard work. He is respected here and I consider him my most trusted advisor.”

“I meant no disrespect, your highness. I do get rather heated in discussions sometimes. Should I follow him and apologize?” As if he actually would.

“No, no. He’ll return after he’s calmed down. It seems you two have something in common.”

“What is that?”

“A temper. No offense meant.”

“None taken, your highness.” Adam glanced toward the door Jafar had left through. His lips curved into a smile. He had to admit, that was the most fun he’d had since his arrival.


	2. Masks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A big THANK YOU to viennainspringtime on tumblr for being THE BEST BETA!!!! <33
> 
> Thank you to everybody who's supporting this fic and this ridiculous ship =D You're what keeps me motivated to write this stuff LOL Hope you guys enjoy this chapter!!! Comments and kudos are always appreciated!!!!!

Jafar slammed the door to his office behind himself. The loud noise woke poor Iago from an evening nap in the corner. He squawked, fluttering his red wings.

“‘The filth of the lowest of the low’ he said. Damn spoiled brat!” Jafar snarled, knocking over a stack of books.

“Spoiled brat,” Iago mimicked. 

“This is infuriating. If Jasmine picks some fool like this, Agrabah is doomed. But if she doesn’t choose a husband soon, then Hamed will choose one for her. Damn you, Jasmine. For making me suffer Prince Adam of France. A vile, spoiled child who pretends he knows everything, when he knows  _ nothing _ of the world.” 

Despite what many thought of him, Jafar did not hate easily. He disliked mostly everyone, but that just made life easier and his own goals clearer. He  _ hated  _ Prince Adam. He hated everything that little brat stood for and everything he would squander in his life.

Who was he to judge Jafar’s life? He knew nothing of Jafar’s struggles, the day to day fight for mere survival on the streets. Nothing of the respect he had to earn through hard work and loyalty. Of the five years lost to a hell on earth and the way Jafar had to claw and grasp for something to keep living for. Revenge, power, and self-preservation.

For having much, Prince Adam knew nothing of these things or ambition. Of how it could drive a life forward and lead to accomplishments a royal prince could only take for granted. 

Jafar clenched his jaw and lit a candle, eager to bury himself in research so he might block out the biting words exchanged at dinner.

“You seem rather pleased with yourself, my prince,” Lumiere commented as Plumette carefully finished removing any trace of makeup from Adam’s face. 

“Did you not see what transpired at dinner, Lumiere?” Adam replied with a chuckle. Lumiere had not eaten with the nobles, but he had been present against the wall should his prince need him. Plumette continued to undo the work she had created only a couple hours prior. 

“I did. And I must say, that was quite a low blow. No man likes being reminded of where he’s come from.”

“Is it true?” Adam had only found out about Jafar’s humble beginnings through eavesdropping on Plumette who had been talking with one of the sailors who had lived in Agrabah for a time. The idea had seemed to intrigue her and Adam knew she would likely try to ask those who actually worked with Jafar. Plumette was a sweetheart, though she had a keen fascination for the romantic ideas of rising through the ranks. She herself had only been a kitchen girl when she started working at the castle. Now here she was, in a foreign country as her prince’s left-hand woman - the right, of course, belonged to her lover. 

Still, Adam hadn’t been absolutely sure if gossip would be worth anything here, as it was  _ everything _ in the French court, but given Jafar’s reaction, there was something there.

“The servants aren’t allowed to talk about it,” said Plumette. 

“But they do anyway.”

“Of course.” Plumette gently pulled the ribbon from Adam’s hair and splayed the blond locks out. Finished, she took a formal step back and waited.

“Must be true. He would not have been so angry,” Adam commented; he frowned a moment. “An urchin of the streets who made his way up the ladder to royal vizier. He’s an interesting man.”

“If I may,” said Lumiere. “Perhaps you should not have antagonized him. Could be dangerous.”

“You mean politically, Lumiere?”

“Uh, yes.”

Adam grunted in agreement. Lumiere was the closest thing to a best friend that Adam had. He was his servant, but also sharp as a whip, and Adam valued his advice, even when he did not show it. His father almost made him bring Cogsworth, who was as faithful, competent, and punctual as could be, but was also a bit of a pushover. If Adam had brought him, he would have been able to convince Cogsworth that they should return home by now. 

“Perhaps it would be best not to engage with him for the rest of our stay,” Lumiere suggested.

“Yes… but if by some miraculous happenstance Princess Jasmine does somehow fall madly in love with me the moment she sees me, and wishes to marry me, that means I’ll have to rule this stark desert land. Even if there’s the slightest chance of someday ruling this kingdom, getting off to a bad start with the vizier wouldn’t be the wisest idea.” 

“You could apologize,” said Plumette. 

“Yes, yes!” Lumiere agreed. “At breakfast tomorrow explain that you meant no disrespect and that the conversation at dinner had gotten away from you. Voila! Fresh start!”

Adam smiled. God, Lumiere’s enthusiasm could be infectious - if not misplaced - at times. It was probably the smart thing to do. But Adam wasn’t sorry and he  _ did  _ mean to disrespect the gutter snake. Bastard had insulted him first, it was only fair.

He rolled his eyes and stood. 

“We’ve only been here a day and it feels like a week,” he grumbled before dismissing his servants for the night with a wave of his hand. 

Plumette blew out most of the candles before she and Lumiere retired, leaving Adam with a single candle on his bedside table and the moonlight that poured in from outside. 

A little too hot for comfort, Adam pulled his white shirt over his head and flung it over the nearest settee. He took one more look out across the city. 

Most of Agrabah had gone to sleep. Only a few lights flickered in the night; one group in particular Adam could see had gathered on the beach. He could faintly hear music, though he was not sure if it was from them. 

He sighed. Day one. There was a lot here he didn’t care for. People he would have to put up with over the next few days. A dull Sultan, an absentee princess, and, most egregiously, an irritating vizier. But he had to admit, Agrabah was rather beautiful.

Prince Adam did not show up for breakfast.

“He did travel quite a long way. He’s probably exhausted,” the Sultan easily excused.

Tired or not, it was rude. Especially after the insult he had given Jafar the night before. He suspected that he had been mistaken yesterday when he thought the prince at least had manners. Little shit didn’t even have that. 

Jasmine was still disgustingly ill, according to Dalia; apparently worse than the day before. Damn.

Dalia had insisted that the Sultan not so much as enter the chambers, just in case. Jafar briefly considered trying to feign peace with Prince Adam and convince him to sneak into Jasmine’s room. With any luck, he could catch something; send the brat home early with a nasty cold.

But that could lead to some unwanted finger-pointing, or it might do the very opposite of its intent in that Adam could grow sick but remain in Agrabah until he recovered. Jafar scowled at the thought and decided to stick it out for the remainder of his visit.

After all, Jafar could handle a few foul remarks about his past. He dealt with them from men he worked with on a daily basis. The implications from nobles bold enough to utter them. The whispers between servants, despite the Sultan’s distaste for gossip. The shadow that followed him everywhere he went and held him back from all his potential. 

He had more important issues to deal with than a beastly prince.

Jafar spent most of his morning at a meeting with advisors regarding marketplace permits. It was tedious, but he managed to get through it as he normally did with these sorts of things. Afterward he retired to his office, where he fed Iago some birdseed and read a few chapters of a book on alchemy that he had recently acquired.

As the sun climbed higher into the sky, his stomach began to growl. Eager for lunch, he slipped a marker between the pages of his book and replaced the turban on his head. He said his prayers, then made his way to the dining hall.

“Prince Adam has still not emerged from his room,” the Sultan told him upon entering.

“Haven’t his servants awakened him?”

“Apparently he gave them the morning off so they could enjoy the city.” The Sultan hesitantly sat down. “I’d hate to have two meals without our guest. Jafar, would you mind…?”

Yes, he would. 

“Why not send Hakim?” he said stiffly. “Or anybody else…” 

“I would prefer if  _ you _ invited him to lunch with us.”

This wasn’t up for debate, he realized.

Jafar hated this. He knew what Hamed was doing. Stupid old man, as if Jasmine would end up picking this brat. Reconciling would serve no purpose except to make conversations with Prince Adam much less awkward when in both Jafar and Hamed’s presence.

He walked at a brisk pace, eager to get this over with. As he approached the door, he slowed, then came to a stop just outside. He knocked. 

Then he knocked again, louder. 

And again.

On the fourth time, he could hear sounds from the other side.

At last, the door cracked open, revealing only a sliver of an undressed, recently woken Prince Adam.

“What is it?” he grumbled.

“It is nearly midday, young prince. I do not know how late into the day you are used to rising in France, but in Agrabah, we rise with the sun,” said Jafar. “The Sultan missed you at breakfast.”

“Oh,” Adam muttered, the door opening further and allowing Jafar to fully see him. In spite of himself, Jafar’s eyes widened slightly and his lips parted.

Prince Adam’s blond hair was a mess, long strands stuck up in various places while others fell around his face. Under crystal blue eyes hung dark circles; the ever-present smug shine his face had held in the past seemed gone. The skin that was usually covered up to his neck was without so much as a shirt, exposing that pale skin to the morning light like snow in the sun. 

Jafar wasn’t one to stare, but he couldn’t help it. There was something so…  _ common _ about the way the disheveled Adam stood in the doorway. It was a strange reminder that even the most pampered and put-together royals were the same species as the street urchins, criminals, and politicians. Despite what airs the little bastard could put on, no matter how snobbish his words could be, he was just like everyone else.

And also… despite the lack of fine clothes, combed hair, and hint of makeup, Prince Adam was still every bit as beautiful as if he was done up. 

It was a mask. Like every cape Jafar owned, every piece of silk, every smile he forced when the Sultan shot down his ideas. Jafar wondered. Was Adam just as much second to his father as Jafar was to the Sultan? Did this prince have more in common with Agrabah’s vizier as opposed to its princess?

Adam, who didn’t seem to particularly care that Jafar was getting a good eyeful of him, widened the door, inviting.

“I’ll be ready in a minute, if you want to wait,” he said, turning and walking back further into the room.

Jafar didn’t dare budge, but rather furrowed his brow at what he saw on Adam’s back. It was faint, but there was no doubt that there was a long, slender scar that ran from the top of Adam’s right shoulder, down past his shoulder blade, and ended at the small of his back. 

As Adam passed by a stream of sunlight from his balcony, it was far clearer. A pale pink that clashed against paler skin. Jafar’s grip on his staff tightened. He knew what caused scars like that. He had several of them himself. 

“I allowed my hand servants to go into the city this morning,” explained Adam from the adjoining room, where he changed. “You’ll pardon it will take me a moment to ready myself for the Sultan’s presence.”

“So I heard. They must be enjoying our little port city, dirty streets and all,” Jafar said, trying to keep the sneer in his voice subtle.

There was a moment’s pause before Prince Adam appeared in the doorway. Jafar averted his gaze at first, but made sure to only look above the waistline, for Adam was still shirtless, but now in a pair of tight beige breeches that ended at his knee where light blue tights continued down his legs. 

“I, uh, I wanted to talk to you,” Adam started, shifting uncomfortably. He idly pushed a strand of hair from his face. “What I said last night…” 

A war seemed to be brewing behind Adam’s eyes. He was apologizing, and yet he obviously did not want to. 

Jafar thought of Hamed. Of the way he had unofficially ordered Jafar to speak with their guest and apologize, himself. Of course, Prince Adam might have been a snobby little fool, but he was educated enough to know to not be so quick to make enemies in foreign lands. It seemed once again they had more in common than Jafar was comfortable with.

“Perhaps we both got ahead of ourselves,” he said, internally spiting every word. “You are a stranger, and over the past several years we’ve had many strangers from various countries come here and believe they will be the one the princess chooses. It gets tiresome, you understand. I’m sure that you had not expected to stay as long as you will have to without getting a chance to meet Princess Jasmine. That must be frustrating.”

“Yes…” Adam seemed at a loss for words - for once. 

“You will join the Sultan and me for lunch. Any harsh words thrown last night will be forgotten and we shall begin anew. Reasonable?”

“Alright.”

Jafar stood just outside the bedchamber as he waited for Adam to finish making himself presentable. Begin anew, indeed. Fine, he could play nice and welcoming for their guest, if it would keep Hamed from scolding him like a child.

Though, he had to concede, there was something about Adam that was intriguing. Jafar idly twisted his staff in his hand, wondering when the young prince could have possibly been given that scar. He wouldn’t have been surprised if it had been an accident when riding a horse or even during some sexual encounter.

But the way it had cut across his back… No. It had definitely been purposely inflicted to cause pain. 

Once again, Jafar wondered how much in common he might have with Adam. He wondered if Adam was as ambitious as he. On the one hand, Prince Adam seemed the type who took his power in stride. As if it were the cost of being wealthy. This possibility made Jafar almost feel sorry for whatever kingdom he would rule someday. The type of kingdom that would economically suffer. 

And then there was the other option. That Prince Adam was more ambitious than he let on. After all, as far as Jafar knew, he had no older siblings. Should Jasmine pick him, who would rule France once the king died? Was the French King planning on withholding the throne from Adam? Was Adam here to secure a throne to spite his father?

Too many questions, most possible answers not adding up. 

At last, Prince Adam emerged from his bedchamber looking perfectly immaculate as he had the day before. Upon seeing that Jafar was still waiting for him, his face lit up.

“You did not have to wait to escort me personally, Grand Vizier. I would have been along shortly,” he said.

The dark circles under his eyes were gone, the blond hair was neatly tied back, his clothing looking fresh and sharp. The mask was back, as was the smug look in his eye. Even without the help of his servant, he managed to put himself together alright. 

Jafar wondered if it was painful to wrap himself so tight into his princely skin as it looked. Was that scar on his back a tear in the fabric? Did Adam even care that Jafar had seen it? Perhaps he was just showing off. 

“Shall we?” said Adam.

Jafar gave a curt nod and they headed off towards the throne room. All the while, Jafar continued to think about Adam’s scar and whether or not it was the only one he had. 

The Sultan had business to attend to that afternoon. He was, after all, the ruler of this kingdom and his schedule was not tailored to babysitting a visiting suitor. Back in the early days of Jasmine’s suitors, he did spend more time with them during their stays, eagerly getting to know a potential new leader of Agrabah. 

But year after year and suitor after suitor, it became something he could not continue. First meetings and meals became the only times he would interact with them. The Sultan would have guards watching, should something suspicious arise, but for the most part visiting princes were left to their own devices during their stay. 

Adam was a special case, for any other prince would know by now that Princess Jasmine had rejected them and they would already be making preparations to leave. But no. Adam walked through the halls of the palace, unsure what move to make next. 

He was still sure that Jasmine would probably reject him, as picky princesses do until their fathers choose a husband for them. 

But while coming here wasn’t something Adam had ever been keen on, being away from his father made breathing easier. He still had the vizier breathing down his neck - despite their subtle and not particularly genuine apologies earlier in the day - but even Adam could admit that he’d take Jafar over his father any day. 

He’d certainly take  _ anybody  _ over his father. Being under that man’s roof had been the cruellest trick of nature. The castle back home in France was huge, open, but also isolating. The castle was both home and prison. The only times Adam could feel truly happy was when he organized a ball or locked himself away in his room with a book. Even then, it was only to establish some sense of control over his life.

When Adam had been told he was going to Agrabah to court a princess he’d never met, it felt like he was being kicked out. His father was pushing him out of the only home Adam had ever known.

Agrabah was so different. Yesterday, a part of Adam despised how different it was. It wasn’t home. It was the polar opposite of home. Here he was just one in a line of many suitors. Someone to be scoffed at, just another visitor to never be seen again. Yesterday, Adam resented Agrabah for it, he resented the princess for prolonging his stay.

Then the banging on the door had come. He had drowsily remembered telling Lumiere the day before to take Plumette into the city and enjoy themselves, so he had to get up and answer the door himself. 

He wasn’t sure why he had expected, or wanted, Jafar to be far more angry than he was. There had been an underlying tension there as he had waited for Adam to dress himself. Then came the unspoken but heeded apologies. Neither were sorry for their words the night before, but Adam was a guest here and as much as he’d like to give in to his temper, a part of him wasn’t ready to go home yet.

It was a peculiar feeling he had awoken with and one he hadn’t properly processed until the afternoon as he walked through the palace gardens. 

Adam had traveled abroad before, but never once did it feel like this. Like he could breathe. He couldn’t dress himself up as much as he wanted - or down for that matter - without disapproval from other French nobles or his father. But there were less expectations here. People here didn’t know who he was in France, he could show a different side of himself without fear of consequence. He could dress as he pleased. Adam was to play the part of a suitor for a princess, to be a guest in a foreign land. But there was nothing else beyond that. 

Princess Jasmine was the one to make the next move and all he had to do was wait. 

Yesterday, the thought of waiting seemed tedious and generally a waste of time. But now, now he could wander a foreign palace and take in the beauty of this country. How beautiful the people were here, how lively. In France, everyone was so stiff, so tightly wound and put together. 

Today Adam wasn’t so much as wearing any make-up. He could have, for he had been done up so many times by servants it wasn’t a problem to do it himself. But he chose not to. For once, he chose to look how he wanted to for his own sake. Not for the court or his father. 

Adam sat on the edge of the fountain and looked up at the balconies that had plentiful views of the gardens. 

Most were empty. Perhaps there were more similarities to the castle than he thought. 

Then something caught his eye. It had been so brief, a flash of red movement. It was not from any of the balconies, but rather from a far tower at the edge of the palace; it was one of the taller pillars caught between the sea and the land. Adam wondered what it was like up there. Was it stuffy or could you smell the salt and feel the cool breeze from the water? 

Who was up there and was their view of the world more content than his own? 

Jafar was quite certain that Prince Adam was looking directly at him from the palace gardens. Not that one could see much from there anyway, but he was facing in the general direction. He frowned and stepped away from the window facing the palace and back deeper into his office. 

He slinked around the orrery at the center of the room, and up the steps to the area closest to the window facing the sea. He sat down in the chair and stared down at the open book in front of him. 

It was a large old tome with foxing around the corners that Jafar had acquired in the next town over less than a month ago. His dark eyes scanned the words he had read over for the twelfth time since his purchase. The page was open to an article regarding a two-piece golden beetle pendant. 

“Amulets and artifacts,” he muttered. Nothing tangible had come of his search for his prize. Only legends and myths and books that led to other books with more legends. Nearly six years and this was all he had to show for it. 

His gaze mindlessly wandered back over to the window that looked out over the palace, the image of Prince Adam’s bare back crawling its way back to the forefront of his mind. He thought he had banished it hours ago, but it continued to plague him regardless.

He thought of Adam’s scars, of the healed over skin and the muscle that moved underneath it. Foxed around the edges, that one, just like the book before him. But how much damage was there? Certainly enough for the fool to forget himself at a dinner with nobles. 

Jafar stood and returned to the window and looked down at the gardens. It took him a moment to spot him, but sure enough, Prince Adam was still there, though he had removed his outer jacket and was using it as a pillow as he lay under a tree. Lazy brat. 

_ Lazy… and rather beautiful.  _ Jafar frowned and pushed down such thoughts.  _ Don’t _ , he scolded himself.  _ That could complicate things.  _

Still, he remained at the window for a few moments longer.


	3. Ajar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!! Just wanted to thank you all so much for your support!!! It truly means the world to me <3
> 
> Sorry this chapter is a little bit shorter than the previous two, but I hope you enjoy it anyway!! At last, we're finally getting into why this fic is rated E, so keep that in mind ;)
> 
> As always a big THANK YOU to my lovely beta DowntoTheSea!!!! <3

Jafar cursed the rapping on the door to his office. For half a second, he considered not answering, pretending he was still asleep and letting his visitor assume he wasn’t quite up yet. It was, after all, incredibly early with the sun still low in the sky. 

He was only up this early due to troublesome dreams that he could no longer remember. There were no images or sounds that he recalled, only the feeling of sweat and a thick red substance rolling down his skin. He had awoken bolt upright with his chest heaving, and just like that, the dream was banished from his mind.

The sky was just beginning to lighten for the day, so Jafar had taken it as a sign to get up. It hadn’t been long since then and although he was wide awake, he had no interest in speaking with anyone just yet.

But this could be important. He frowned and closed the book he had been reading, before making his way to the calm, though persistent, knocking. He cracked it open and his eyebrows flew into his hairline.

There stood Prince Adam, looking bright-eyed and already put together for the day. He smiled, whether out of politeness or because he was pleased to have surprised Jafar, it was unclear.

Jafar opened the door further.

“Prince Adam,” he said, “you’re awake rather early today.”

“If I recall yesterday morning you told me that the people of Agrabah rise with the sun,” said Adam.

Jafar narrowed his eyes slightly. The sun could not have risen more than an hour ago and the sky was still a light orange; Adam must have woken up when it was still dark. Rise with the sun, indeed.

“Of course. Is there something I can help you with?” he asked.

“Only a moment of your time. I understand breakfast won’t be served for another hour and I am uncertain on whether or not Princess Jasmine is feeling any better today, and I likely won’t know until breakfast.”

Jafar idly tapped his index finger on the doorframe, waiting for Adam to get to the point and answer his damn question.

“I wanted to ask you about her,” Adam finally said.

Jafar forced the smile he saved for politicians; it was something he needed to work on, for while it gave off the impression of pleasantries, it still looked like he was pained to do it. 

Resigning himself to the fact that Adam wasn’t going to leave anytime soon, Jafar took a step back, inviting him inside.

“What exactly was it you wished to know about her?” he asked, closing the door; he kept Adam in his sight all the while. Didn’t want the brat poking his nose where it didn’t belong. 

Adam did the opposite as he gazed around, eating up as much as he could with his eyes, taking in every detail as if he could learn everything about Jafar just by identifying every piece of furniture. 

He paused by the orrery and reached out to brush his hand against it. But before he could, another, well-manicured hand snatched his wrist. Adam followed it up to its irritated owner, who had gotten _ very _ close in only a couple silent strides.

“ _ Please, _ don’t touch,” said Jafar.

Adam withdrew his hand, but maintained their closeness with a hint of smugness.

“How long have you known the princess?” he asked.

“All her life.”

Adam finally took a few steps back, his gaze once again moving around the room, though now he kept his hands to himself.

“And is she one to avoid visiting princes?” he said. “From what I understand, she’s been accepting suitors for most of her adult life. I imagine that gets rather tiresome.” 

Jafar tilted his head ever so slightly. A part of him was offended on Jasmine’s behalf, as if he hadn’t considered that on day one. But Adam didn’t know Jasmine, and him guessing that as well irked Jafar in a way he couldn’t explain.

“Are you suggesting Princess Jasmine is faking her illness?”

“Yes,” said Adam, looking up from one of the bookshelves, where he had been perusing the Arabic titles.

“The Princess is headstrong, but she’s not the type to avoid her responsibilities so indolently. She has her pride, as we do. I’m certain she will apologize for wasting your time as soon as she is well.”

“I assure you, Grand Vizier, my time has not been wasted.”

“No?”

Something flickered across Prince Adam’s face so swiftly that Jafar had barely registered it. But it was there.

“No,” said Adam. “In fact, Agrabah is growing on me like the purple flowered vines I saw in your palace gardens yesterday. Quite beautiful and difficult to walk away from.”

“But should the princess reject you, you will walk away?” Jafar meant to phrase this as a statement, but it came out sounding more like a question.

“Of course,” said Adam. “I won’t stay where I’m not wanted.”

He paused then, eyeing up Jafar, who continued to stand there, wishing his staff wasn’t on the opposite side of the room just so he’d have something for his hands to hold onto.

Adam smiled again, the corner of his eye sparkling as he crossed through a ray of the early sunshine. He stepped further into Jafar’s office, towards the desk where Jafar had left open the tome that spoke of the beetle pendant. 

Jafar felt something in him seize up the moment he saw Adam take notice of it. 

“What’s this?”

Adam turned the tome so that it faced him.

“Magic pendants, Grand Vizier?” he chuckled, “is this what you read about in your free time?”

Jafar gritted his teeth and glided over to the desk, promptly closing the tome and nearly catching Adam’s wandering hand between the pages. 

_ The little bastard! How dare he? _

“Is there anything else you wanted?” Jafar snarled. 

Once again he was merely inches from Prince Adam, though now he could feel the soft breath on his face. Adam didn’t so much as blink as he smirked again, his eyes glancing to Jafar’s lips for only a moment, but enough to be noticed.

Adam shifted to face him fully, his arm brushing against Jafar’s chest. Jafar inhaled deeply at the contact, the scented French perfume making his head spin. Standing at about the same height, if one moved just a fraction closer, their lips could almost touch.

Adam moved forward just enough to bump their noses together, the action immediately sending sparks of panic through Jafar, his mind going blank and fury filling his chest.

“Get out,” he said softly, the words not nearly coming out as biting as intended. This only made Adam’s lips curl into a grin.

“Make me, Grand Vizier.”

Jafar bared his teeth. 

“I said,  _ get out! _ ” 

And just like that, Adam took a step back and made his way to the door without another word. Jafar couldn’t tell, but he was sure the little shit was still smirking.

Iago flew in through the window and landed on his perch.

“Spoiled brat!” he squawked. 

Adam hadn’t meant to take it that far, not by a long shot. But as he rushed down the stairs of Jafar’s tower, he was suddenly aware just _how_ obviously that encounter had affected him. It really didn’t help that he was wearing his tight snow white trousers today. 

He couldn’t just go back to his room either. Plumette and Lumiere were there. His ears burned at the embarrassment he hoped to avoid. He turned down various hallways, managing to get past guards without them giving him too much thought.

Dammit, he  _ really _ hadn’t meant for things to get as far as they had. 

At last, he reached the section of the palace used for guest rooms. He could see the door to his own room, but instead knocked on the first door he saw, praying it was vacant. 

When no answer came, he checked the door handle, which easily allowed access. They should really have locked these rooms up when they weren’t being used or cleaned. 

Adam slipped inside and closed the door behind him. 

The room itself was pretty much the same as his, if a little smaller. Still ornate, still lovely.

But Adam wasn’t particularly interested in the decor right now. No, the moment the door was shut, he made to undo the front of his trousers. Getting the top button unhitched, he immediately shoved his hand inside, wrapping his hand eagerly around himself. He sighed and slowly began to move. 

He thought of Jafar. Of that moment, when they were so damn close Adam could almost kiss him. He  _ wanted  _ to kiss him. He nearly did.

He had noticed how gorgeous Jafar was the moment they had met, but this… this tension, the back and forth… Adam wondered if he was just as difficult in bed. He quickened the movement of his hand as he imagined it.

Of how Jafar probably liked to be on top, pinning his partner down as he worshipped their skin with his tongue. Of the way Jafar would purposefully leave bruises and bite marks so they could not forget what he had done to them. He was probably a huge tease too, he probably liked to work his partner to the edge, then deny them everything.

Adam thought about how he had practically done that in the tower. How close they had gotten to each other - twice! - before one pulled away. The first time, Adam hadn’t even thought about it. But the second time… the second time they barely touched, he had felt Jafar’s hot breath on his face. 

If Adam hadn’t left when told to, what would have happened? Would Adam be hiding in an empty room like this? Did Jafar tell him to get out because he was afraid of what would happen? Would Jafar’s hand be the one sliding down Adam’s cock if he hadn’t left?

The thought of that drew Adam closer, his mind flooded with images of ‘what if’ scenarios. Of Jafar pushing him over that desk and dragging those long nails over his skin. Of Jafar sitting in his chair and pulling Adam into his lap. Of… of… of- of-

The fantasies all at once became too much; Adam’s eyes rolled back as he came in his too-tight trousers.


	4. View

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait!!!! Hopefully the next one won't take as long LOL Things start... happening in this chapter so I hope you find that the wait was worth it ;) 
> 
> THE BIGGEST THANK YOU to my beta DownToTheSea!! Thanks for sticking with me after the long wait. You're the best!! <33

Jafar’s face felt like it was on fire as he stormed down the hallway of the palace. What happened in his office should not have happened. Though, what exactly did happen? Nothing. Nothing happened… but something _ could _ have happened. Something Jafar knew could only lead to trouble that he did not need.

He scowled as he once again found himself on the other side of Jasmine’s chamber door. He slammed his fist down.

“Princess!” he shouted. He pounded again. “_ Princess! _”

It was time to end this. If she was faking it, then he was going to determine that right here, right now. If she wasn’t, he would still drag her out of bed himself and make her see this damn prince. “Prin-!”

The door cracked open enough to see a wide-eyed Dalia staring back at him.

“Is the palace on fire? What’s...” Jafar didn’t give her the chance to finish her sentence.

“Where is she?” he growled, his hand balled into a fist, making him realize he had left his staff in the tower. A sliver of insecurity slipped to the surface. Having his staff to hold onto always gave Jafar a feeling of power, even if he was in the presence of the Sultan; it was a form of control and something solid to grip when his temper flared. He would have to be careful when speaking with Jasmine, for he might lash out without the anchor he had left with his patience in the tower.

Dalia seemed to relax, despite Jafar’s obvious state. 

“She’s here, in her chambers, as she has been for the past several days,” she said bluntly.

On any other day, Jafar could appreciate her wit. He always liked Dalia. She was straightforward and had a sense of humor he shared, but she also knew her place and never spoke out when she should not. But today was already turning out to be a different kind of day.

A day that drew too close to danger… and it was all Jasmine’s fault.

“I know she’s in there,” he sneered. He didn’t wait for Dalia’s response and instead immediately pushed through Dalia’s arm, practically shoving her aside. “Out of my way, girl.”

“Vizier Jafar! The princess is very sick and-”

But Jafar ignored her and made his way over to the ornate bed. Rajah rose from his place on the settee with teeth bared and a warning growl in his throat. Jafar slowed as he slipped by the tiger.

He stopped at the bedside where the still sleeping lump rose and fell with every breath. Jasmine had her sheets pulled almost completely over her head; only the top of her head, along with a few strands of loose black hair, seemed to poke out, confirming that she was, indeed, under there.

“Wake up,” he growled. 

Dalia watched from the foot of the bed, wanting to kick Jafar out, but knew she physically couldn’t even if she tried. 

Jafar seethed and shouted, “Jasmine wake up, _ now! _”

The lump seemed to startle and tiredly groan.

“Dalia…” she muttered from under the sheets. 

“It’s time to wake up,_ Princess _,” Jafar sneered. “You have responsibilities to see to. Corrections to make as soon as possible.”

The sheets covering her slowly slipped down, revealing a pale and unkempt Jasmine. 

Jafar froze. For days he had wondered, suspicious and irritated, whether her condition was as bad as to warrant seclusion in her chambers. But now he saw. 

He saw the redness of her nose, the sweat on her brow, her full lips dry, the way she seemed unable to focus on him - though that could just be her waking up - and not to mention the sudden sharp inhale she gave, followed by a fit of heavy dry coughing into her pillow. She placed a hand on her collarbone, as if that could ease her suffering. 

It was not a simple or pleasant cough either; Jafar took a step back. 

Dalia pushed her way past Jafar to offer Jasmine a glass of water, which she took and softly thanked her for. She managed to sit up as Dalia quickly explained that she couldn’t stop Jafar from entering.

Jasmine’s dark eyes met Jafar’s. He saw her and he knew he was wrong. She _ was _ sick. She wasn’t faking it. Something dull and heavy settled in the pit of his stomach.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked, her voice hoarse and weak. 

Jafar, who had put a good couple of feet between them, shifted from one foot to the other. He was wrong. He was wrong and suddenly he felt ashamed for it. He knew Jasmine, he prided himself on how well he knew her. Of course she wouldn’t be shirking her responsibilities, even if it was the tedious inconvenience of meeting a new suitor. She wouldn’t fake being ill just to avoid it, she’d face it straight on, no matter how much she didn’t want to. He had said so himself not one hour ago.

Was he so bothered by Prince Adam that he’d forget himself, that he’d forget Jasmine, that he would place all the blame on her? She hadn’t even met the bastard!

Once again, Jafar wished he had his staff to hold onto, though now it was for different reasons. He was suddenly very aware of Rajah’s unrelenting gaze burning into the back of his head, waiting for Jafar to give him a reason to lunge. 

Jafar glanced at Jasmine, who was still looking at him curiously. He slipped his anger behind the mask he usually saved for the Sultan; this was normal, he wasn’t flustered at all. 

“I wanted to see if you were as ill as I was told you were,” he said simply.

Jasmine’s eyes narrowed. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she wheezed.

Jafar had nothing. He had been so ready to break down the door and point and shout that her charade was over, that it was time to send Prince Adam away so he wouldn’t have to think about him again.

“There’s… a prince…” he started. 

Jasmine’s gaze darted to his hand, likely noting his lack of staff, then back to his face. Jafar hated this. She was always good at reading him better than anyone. And right now he was an open book.

“So I’ve heard,” she said, her eyes still picking him apart. He had hardly said anything and yet he felt as if she was putting the pieces together, as if she knew about what happened in the tower… No. Jasmine was just observant, not psychic. 

Jafar clenched his jaw and straightened his spine. Jasmine seemed to observe this too, she saw him put himself back together, leaving her with a hundred questions about what could have bothered him so much to wake her so early in the morning.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, covering his embarrassment with civility.

“A lot better, despite how I must look,” she said, still eyeing him.

“That’s good. Nasty cough you have there.”

“It’s the worst part right now. I can’t seem to shake it.”

Something deep in Jafar’s chest stirred. Something he hadn’t thought about in a long time. A familiarity, a nostalgia for a time when conversations like this weren’t so awkward or rare. 

“Do you think you’ll be well within the next couple days?” 

“With any luck,” she replied. 

All the while during this exchange, Dalia had also been watching Jafar with a confused expression. Only moments before had he pushed past her fuming.

“Then hurry along then,” he said, trying to recapture that feeling of anger from before and failing. “Your life as royalty does not stop and start at the whims of a cough.”

Jasmine didn’t seem at all intimidated or irritated in that familiar way whenever Jafar suggested anything to her. In fact, she seemed to be hiding a slight smile.

Jafar’s warm cheeks grew hot. He gave a curt nod and acknowledged her title. “Princess.”

“Vizier,” she replied, that smile looking more and more difficult to hold back.

Not wanting to see it in full bloom, Jafar made a beeline for the door.

_How stupid I am_, he thought, making his way down the hallway._ Jasmine saw right through me._ _She knows I doubted her and now I’ve made a complete fool out of myself!_

Jafar wanted to blame Adam. It would be easy, if not pointless. He had thought it would be easy to blame Jasmine for this… _ attraction _ towards him. And yes, it was attraction. He had already made a fool of himself enough times today, he couldn’t lie to himself. 

He was drawn to Prince Adam. Drawn in a way that Jasmine should be, not him. Drawn in the way Adam_ should be _ for Jasmine. That was the whole point of his being there. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that the feeling was mutual.

Adam wanted him, right there in Jafar’s office, and Jafar could have taken him then too, if he had allowed himself. And why not?

Jafar wasn’t a celebate man. He enjoyed the company of others when he desired it. It never lasted more than a single time. He didn’t have the time or care for anything more and he preferred it that way. 

And then there was Adam. Jafar had never bedded one of Jasmine’s suitors before. But then again, none of her suitors had ever gone toe-to-toe with him in conversation. Nor had any of them ever seemed interested, for that matter. And neither had he. 

Day after day, suitor after suitor, rejection after rejection… perhaps it was time Jafar took advantage of a beautiful and willing body in his bed. Perhaps he should scratch that itch before it festered into something worse. Perhaps perhaps perhaps… Perhaps Prince Adam would drive him mad.

The smell of the salted sea breeze blew into Adam’s face, temporarily relieving the desert heat he still had not grown accustomed to. He was standing much lower in the palace than the tower, and it was not nearly on the edge of the cliff it sat upon, but he could still get a better view of the water from here.

Never anywhere in France could he experience a breeze like this. In the high towers of the castle, only the scent of pine and the crisp chill of Europe would rush in through the curtains. While he still detested the idea of it being hot all year round, this warm breeze caressed him rather than nip and bite; he could get used to that, if he needed to.

“May I have a moment of your time, Prince Adam?”

The sound of the voice behind him made Adam jump from where he leaned against the balcony railing. His eyes widened and he spun to meet a rather bored-looking, albeit still beautiful Jafar, who stood in the shadows just inside the threshold. He stood a step forward. “Did I startle you?”

Adam found that Jafar looked rather spectacular in the early afternoon light. Even in his deep red and black robes, the sun was gentle on his face and hands, kissing the skin there, the snake staff glinting in the light.

“Only a little,” said Adam.

“What are you doing?” asked Jafar, stepping further out onto the balcony and looking out at the city. 

“Just admiring the view.”

“Do they not have overcrowded, bustling cities in France?”

“Of course we do. Paris is my favorite. That city is so gorgeous and there’s so much to do.” Adam grinned just thinking about it. “Sadly it’s been a long time since I took a trip there.” He leaned with his back against the railing, his elbows resting on the edge. “Our castle is in the country, far away from most of civilization. Though there’s a sleepy little village nearby, mostly where our servants live.”

“Do you miss it?”

“The village I’ve never been to?”

“Your home,” Jafar said, as if that would clarify.

“The castle… of course I miss the castle. Miss having more than just two servants attending me. Having my entire wardrobe to choose from instead of the limited choices I took with me. Surprisingly, I don’t miss the food. Agrabah dishes are rather exciting in comparison.”

A smirk played at the corner of Jafar’s mouth and Adam wondered what it was that he had said that was enough to warrant such an honor. What went on in that head? Was it similar to what went on in Adam’s? Had Jafar been thinking about what happened in the tower all day? 

He asked, “Are you still angry at me?”

“For what?” 

“For… _ you know _,” Adam flashed his teeth and looked at Jafar from under his eyelashes. 

Jafar, ever the master of concealing his feelings it seemed, turned away from the balcony view. Adam sighed. This was going to take some work. How droll. “I’m surprised a man of your stature isn’t married yet.”

“What _ did _ you expect? A harem?”

“I meant no disrespect. Most men in the French court are usually married by your age. Already with three and half screaming infants tucked away in their homes, away from the court until they reach maturity.”

“Is that how things are done in the west?” 

Adam eyed Jafar a moment, taking in his cool tone, unsure if he was mocking.

“You haven’t answered my question,” he said.

“I suppose you could say I’m married to my work,” Jafar replied.

“Most who work in government are. What is it? No one good enough for you? I can see that being an issue.” Adam smirked.

“No, I am quite certain that is _ your _ issue. How old are you? Old enough to have been courting royal princesses before coming here, I imagine.” Jafar stared at him hard. 

It suddenly felt like Adam’s cravat was too tight, the air too thick as if the seabreeze had halted just for this conversation. He opened his mouth to get a good retort in, but nothing came out. They were standing too close, but not in the way they had been that morning. There was something dark in Jafar’s gaze, something exciting and dangerous. Adam wanted to drown himself in it. A small voice in the back of his mind that sounded too much like Mrs. Potts warned him that if he dived headfirst into this, and if people found out, Adam might just never see the outside of the castle again.

So he said nothing, and made to return inside when Jafar snatched him by the upper arm in a firm grip. Adam whirled wildly on him.

“Let go,” he yipped. 

Jafar shook his head, but less as a negative and more as one of disbelief.

“You’re a foolish, _ spoiled _ boy,” he sneered.

“And you’re a volatile street rat,” Adam countered. “Now let me go.”

Jafar released him with a flourish of his wrist. Adam rubbed the spot he had held him, then once again turned to leave. He had only just crossed the threshold of curtains when strong hands grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around, pushing him up against the nearest wall as a hot mouth found his.

A muffled noise rose from the back of his throat as he felt Jafar’s tongue push past his lips. 

_ Yes. _ Adam wanted this, he wanted Jafar, his mouth, his body, and if Jafar was willing to give it all to him, then Adam was going to take it. To hell with proprietary and the princess and to hell with his father!

Adam’s hands found the back of Jafar’s head, pulling him closer, their teeth clashing together at the motion. Jafar moved to step back for air, but Adam held on tight, nibbling on his lower lip and pressing himself flush against Jafar’s body. 

They finally broke the kiss with a loud, wet _ smack _, both of them holding onto each other as if they would die if they let go. Their chests heaved in time as they caught their breath. 

Adam leaned in again to lick a stripe down Jafar’s throat, nuzzling past the cloth and metal until he found his pulsepoint and placed a gentle kiss to it; he reveled in the slight shiver that ran through Jafar and nudged his thigh between Jafar’s. Adam smirked. 

“Do you want to take this someplace more private?” he breathed. Jafar stilled for a moment, then stepped back, finally letting go of Adam's rumpled clothing; this time Adam let him have some distance. 

“Come, walk with me,” Jafar replied simply, taking up his staff that he had deserted on the floor.

Adam only complied, blood rushing through his veins, and a slight bounce to his step as he followed him down the corridor. 

The_ tap tap tap _ of Jafar’s snake staff against the floor echoed against the walls as they walked, not once speaking a word.

Adam found the staff rather intriguing and beautiful. It was shining gold with a jewel on its top; it was far more dazzling than any cane or walking stick men in the west carried. Adam, himself, never particularly liked them; they seemed more of a nuisance to be constantly carrying around. His father frequently carried a polished mahogany cane with a gold handle and tip. 

A distant memory of the feeling of that cane crawled to the front of his mind; Adam attempted to shake it off by replacing it with a more pleasant thought regarding Jafar’s uses for his staff. Jafar’s _ private _ uses for his staff. Yes, that line of thought was _ much _ more agreeable.

“Where are we going?” Adam asked, finally breaking the silence between them. 

“I thought you said you wanted somewhere more private,” said Jafar.

A spark of excitement ran through Adam’s body, going straight to his cock. For once, he was speechless. He would never tell Jafar, but this was all new to him. Not sex, of course, but this… whatever this was turning into. An affair? A one-time tryst? Adam had never had someone like Jafar before, someone he absolutely shouldn’t. Someone who absolutely shouldn’t have him. He hadn’t expected Jafar to make the first move, if any move at all. After all, Jafar had made his stance clear back in the tower. Something had changed. Perhaps he just couldn’t resist him anymore. Adam could see that being a good enough reason.

But then again, Jafar had approached him rather calmly without any hint of disdain he tended to carry whenever they shared the same space. Jafar had initiated a moment alone, just the two of them. Strange. What did he hope to accomplish with that conversation? It obviously didn’t go how he had expected it. Then there was that kiss. Adam wondered if Jafar had planned that kiss, though he doubted it. Did Jafar approach him to make amends and stop _ this _ before it happened? So much for that. This _ was _ going to happen, and Adam was glad that the small voice of warning in the back of his mind was snuffed out.

At last, Jafar finally stopped. He glanced behind them, then around the corner before them. Satisfied, he turned to a curtain-covered wall. He ran a finger along the beige trim that wrapped around the walls of the hallway. 

Adam glanced back from where they had come. He had never been in this area of the palace before and there wasn’t a single soul in sight. They were alone, and something about that single, solitary fact made him feel apprehensive; he licked his lips despite himself.

Jafar’s hand settled somewhere behind the blue curtain. He smiled and pressed at something that sat under the trim; he stood back, holding the curtain back so Adam could see. 

The tile below the trim shook a moment, then pushed back slightly before pulling itself aside. Behind where the tile had been was a square opening that led to a tunnel. 

“After you,” said Jafar.

Adam bent slightly and looked down the tunnel, apprehension prickling his skin. It was far too dark to see the other end.

“Hurry, before someone sees.”

But Adam still didn’t budge. He had misjudged the situation. Jafar was intensely attractive, but he also hated Adam. The moment he had arrived, Jafar had him pinned. Their almost-kiss in the tower, the flirtation and the actual kiss on the balcony were wrong moves on Adam’s part and now he was going to pay the price for it. Whatever was awaiting Adam at the end of the tunnel, it couldn’t be any good. 

“My _ prince _,” Jafar hissed into his ear.

Adam shivered, unsure when he had moved so close. What choice did he have though? He swallowed thickly, then crouched down and entered the tunnel.

The stone passageway ran in only one direction. While there were twists and turns, there were no tunnels that branched off the main one. Adam miserably crawled through it on his hands and knees.

“Just keep going,” Jafar had instructed before closing their way out behind them. 

Adam did not want to keep going. What was he thinking!? Just go into the dark and dirty tunnel because the attractive man who hates your guts told you to? There was no logic in it. And the tunnel _ was _ filthy. It wasn’t what he saw, for he couldn’t see a damn thing, but the dirt and grime and years of neglect clung to his clothes and skin. He mourned his pink coat and new eggshell white stockings, as he tried not to touch the walls if he could help it. 

“There are secret pathways all over the palace,” Jafar explained. “Very few know of their existence. Even the Sultan has no idea these are here, and he’s lived here his whole life.”

“Does Princess Jasmine know?” 

“Yes. In fact, I used to show them to her as a child. It was better she learn about them and how to navigate them instead of accidentally stumbling upon them and getting lost. It would be a great shame if she got stuck in one of the chambers.” The hint of darkness in Jafar’s voice did not go unnoticed. 

“But this tunnel seems to go only one way…” Adam started, hoping to distract himself.

“One of the only ones that does, I’m afraid.” 

A moment later and Adam suddenly couldn’t feel the walls around him. 

“Uh-” he started, stopping in his tracks.

“We must be there. Try to stand.”

Adam pulled himself to his feet without any resistance. He walked two steps forward to allow Jafar out of the passageway. Adam heard the shuffling and ruffling of clothing as Jafar also got to his feet. He grumbled something, then moved away. 

“Jafar?” Adam called.

“Give me a moment. I need to light a match.” 

A few seconds later, there was a scratch and Adam squinted at the small spot of light from across the room. The match moved upward, then caught itself on a torch that hung on the wall. 

The small room illuminated, finally allowing Adam to see where Jafar had taken him. He blinked a few times, his eyes adjusting. He was relieved that there were no torture devices or weaponry of any kind. Maybe Jafar hadn’t brought him here to kill him after all.

But that was the thing, there was absolutely nothing in the room, save the torch on the wall and the two men that stood on opposite sides. The room was so small, in fact, that if they were to both reach out a hand, they could shake with no problem. 

“What is this place?” Adam asked. 

“One of several panic rooms, from what I understand,” said Jafar. “In case of invasion and you need a space to hide in for an hour or two, you go to one of these rooms. Not a permanent solution, but enough to perhaps hide the royal children until it’s safe for them to come out. It’s why the tunnel wasn’t connected to any of the other rooms. Easy way in, easy way out.”

“And you brought me here instead of your tower because…?”

“Despite how private I try to keep my study, someone might walk in on us. Also, my office is on the other side of the palace.” Jafar took two steps forward, already in Adam’s personal space. “I don’t think either of us want to wait any longer than we need to.”

The torchlight was dim, but it allowed Adam to see the lust in Jafar’s eyes. He hadn’t misconstrued the situation after all. He smiled.

It was unclear who moved first, all Adam knew was that in the next moment Jafar’s lips were on his own. He opened his mouth, his tongue pressing into Jafar’s mouth. He swallowed Jafar’s moan and tugged at his robes, unsure of where to start. 

Jafar pulled back suddenly, his own hands still gripping Adam’s hips. Then he shoved Adam back against the stone wall; Adam breathed out a laugh of surprise. Oh, he liked where _ this _ was going. Jafar closed the space between them and brought a hand to the front of Adam’s breeches. Those deft fingers slowly undid the top two buttons; his dark, almost black eyes bore into him, reading every slight reaction. Adam’s smile curled into a grin as he lifted his hips to give him better access. Jafar unbuttoned the last few and without warning slipped his hand in, his beautiful fingers wrapping around Adam’s hard cock. 

Jafar didn’t move; instead he kept watching his expression. Adam stared right back. He knew what this was. Just because they were doing this didn’t mean they had to stop their little back-and-forth tension. But god, he _ did _ wish Jafar would move already. 

“Well?” he said. 

Jafar smiled in the corner of his mouth.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asked, his hand tightening ever so slightly. Adam wiggled his body and attempted to thrust his hips forward, but Jafar flashed him a warning look that Adam could only obey. 

For a moment, Adam wondered if this was how it was going to be. Would Jafar continue to hold him like this until it was too much, then finally deliver? It would be a good show of power, and rather humiliating… _ and yet _.

“Y-yes,” he breathed. 

“What do you want, my prince?”

“I want… your mouth.”

Jafar grinned.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Not this time.”

This time. _ This time. _

Another shiver of pleasure ran through Adam’s frame, this time a whimper escaping his lips. His time in Agrabah was about to get a whole lot better.

_ This is rather fun _, Jafar considered as he held Prince Adam by the dick and implied that whatever was about to transpire would not be the last time. Jasmine was quite sick, after all, and if Adam was to remain here until she was well, well… that might be quite some time. And this prince needed to be kept entertained until then. Why not on his knees for him?

“Thing is,” said Jafar, “I have some business I must attend to this afternoon, so we can’t take our time. Not right now.” He stepped back, releasing Adam’s cock. “Turn around.”

Irritation flashed across Adam’s face, but he turned just the same. 

Jafar smirked. “Good boy.”

Oh, and there was another shiver. If this was Adam responsive, completely clothed and with words alone to make him tremble, Jafar wondered just how he was completely naked and with all the time in the world.

But Jafar didn’t want that experience with Adam just yet. Not now, not here in this filthy room. No, he’d save that experience for a soft bed and a whole night to explore. 

For now, he just needed to be inside him.

“Spread your legs,” said Jafar, making to remove his own fabrics that were in the way. Adam did as he was told. So obedient, so eager. 

At last Jafar pulled out his own hard cock; he gave it a few tugs, anticipation pleasantly heating his skin. He drew close and grabbed at the tops of Adam’s breeches. He held him there, Adam’s hands resting on the wall, his legs apart. Jafar kissed the back of his neck, earning a soft whimper. He licked at the shell of Adam’s ear, then shoved his breeches down to his knees. 

Jafar wanted to slow down, but he also wanted to fuck this pretty prince’s brains out already. Still, he kept his restraint in check. He swiped a palm across Adam’s ass; Adam yelped, but pushed his ass back, silently asking for more. Jafar obliged again and again. Adam bit his lower lip, waiting for another smack. But Jafar was done teasing. After all, he was a busy man with places to be. 

He reached into his robes and produced a vial of cream; he made quick work uncorking the bottle he had only recently purchased that morning, then dipped two fingers in. 

Jafar kicked at Adam’s ankle, pushing his legs apart a little more and subsequently putting a strain on the breeches pooled at his calves. 

Jafar moved in closer, making sure Adam could feel his breath on the back of his neck. His hand slipped down to Adam’s still reddened ass, his thumb brushing against the skin until he arrived at Adam’s entrance. He waited there a moment, just to allow some tension, then he slipped his index finger in.

The delicious moan that escaped the back of Adam’s throat echoed against the empty stone walls. Music to Jafar’s ears and he slipped a second finger in. 

Adam cursed under his breath, pushing his ass back against the hand. Jafar twisted one finger and brushed against what was surely Adam’s prostate. 

“Jafar!” Adam shouted.

Jafar smirked and repeated the motion, causing Adam to moan an, “Oh god…” 

He could probably keep going like this. Just keep fucking Adam with only two fingers and get him to come like that. Judging by how responsive he was, Jafar could probably do it. It would be an interesting experiment.

But he wanted something out of this too, and he was determined to make Adam his completely right here, right now. 

He removed his fingers and applied more lubrication to his hand and to his own cock. 

“Jafar…” Adam growled.

“Shh, shh. So so eager. Patience is a virtue, and you look so pretty with your legs spread and your body open and waiting for me.”

He expected the brat to make some snide retort, but he was fully prepared and didn’t give him any time to come up with a rebuttal. 

Jafar pressed up against Adam again, lining his cock up. Then, without any further warning, he pushed in. 

“Ah, fuck!” Adam yelped, then grinned, his eyes squeezing shut. 

Jafar held him by the hips, sliding back, then snapping his hips forward. 

_ Yes, _ this was exactly how it should be. Pretty little Prince Adam at Jafar’s mercy and mewling for him. 

Jafar kept a quick, rough pace, his hand holding Adam’s head by the ponytail; he moved the hair out of the way so he could mark the flesh there with his teeth. 

Adam was expectedly noisy, breathy with a lot of moaning and shouting, and Jafar was more than happy to pull as many sounds out of him that he could. He pulled on the hair, making Adam turn his head to look back over his shoulder. Jafar closed any remaining space and claimed that noisy mouth with his own.

Adam’s hand moved to touch himself, but Jafar caught him by the wrist and pulled it behind him. Adam growled, annoyed.

“Not this time,” said Jafar. “This time you will come from my cock, and my cock_ alone _. Understand?”

Adam still looked mildly annoyed, but he nodded all the same. Even in the dim lighting, Jafar could see his pupils were blown wide. 

Technically, Prince Adam had more power than Jafar in the royal court. But here, Jafar had all the power and he was growing dizzy from it. 

He drew his cock out then thrust back in _ hard _. 

“Jafar-” Adam cried. Jafar did it again and again. “I’m going to come!_ Please- _!”

Adam’s body shook as his cum painted the dirty stone walls. Jafar kept thrusting, fucking him through it until he, too, felt the pressure build in his abdomen. At the last moment, he pulled out and grabbed Adam by the hair, pulling him down and shoving his cock into that pretty mouth.

Adam whimpered in surprise, but moaned around him as Jafar came. 

Completely spent, Jafar pulled back and looked down at Prince Adam, who swallowed and wiped the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. Then, slowly, a grin spread across his face.

Jafar resisted the urge to say, ‘You’re welcome.’ Instead, he tenderly touched Adam’s cheek, brushing his thumb over his lower lip.


	5. Dirty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to mention a couple things before we begin!  
1\. If you haven't noticed I bumped up the number of chapters this fic is gonna be from 8 to 10.  
2\. (Which kinda ties into 1) This chapter is kinda long LOL and honestly the next chapter is also going to be long. I though maybe stretching things out into two extra chapters would help, but they did not XD So expect MORE  
3\. If you haven't guessed by the previous chapter, things are really getting smutty and it will continue to be a very smutty fic. While I don't want my tags to become this giant block of text, I will be keeping them updated should I tackle a specific kink down the line (honestly, I'm not planning on writing anything too out there, but I thought I'd let you guys know!)
> 
> A HUGE THANK YOU TO MY BETA [DownToTheSea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DownToTheSea/pseuds/DownToTheSea)!!! You are the best!!!! <33

Jafar had managed to put himself back together before Adam was even halfway decent, though he hadn’t removed as many clothes as Adam had. They didn’t speak as they dressed, and Adam swallowed down the urge to tease about how long they lasted. But something had changed just now and he wanted to acknowledge it. Jafar had already implied this wouldn’t be their last time and Adam all too eagerly wondered when that _ next time _ would be. Tonight? Tomorrow before sunrise? 

It was then he noticed Jafar watching him. 

“What?” said Adam with a smirk as he buttoned the front of his breeches. 

“I was just curious…” Jafar began.

“About what?” Adam pulled the ribbon from his tousled hair, then ran his fingers through it. He combed it back with his hands and re-tied it.

“Have you ever been fucked like that?”

Adam paused, heat rising to his cheeks. 

“Of course,” he finally said, instantly regretting it. Great, now Jafar was going to think he was always-

“Did I just deflower you?” The question awkwardly hung in the air for half a second before Jafar quickly added, “Allow me to clarify: Not generally speaking. I highly doubt you were a virgin. I was just curious if I am the first one to be inside of you like that. You seemed hesitant about coming down here with me, and I wasn’t sure if it was because you were having second thoughts or because you’ve never been in that position before, and you were nervous.”

Adam gritted his teeth, his entire face aflame with embarrassment. _ Nervous? Adam nervous? _Jafar had only led him down a disgusting tunnel into a secret chamber without much explanation. He could have brought Adam down there to hurt or kill him, of course he had been uneasy. Adam’s shoulders heaved slightly; he pointed a finger.

“Do not think you’re so special, Vizier. It is none of your business who has...”

Amusement crossed Jafar’s expression.

“There’s no shame, Prince. After all, you seemed to be enjoying yourself. A man likes what he likes.”

An irritated feeling of revelation struck Adam then. Jafar had been acting strangely before on _ purpose _. He knew he had been making Adam uncomfortable before they… Adam looked down at his clothes and scowled at how dirt clung to the pale pink silk. 

“We didn’t have to come here, did we?” he said. “We could have found literally any other place, but you brought me down here to prove a point.”

Jafar cocked an eyebrow and asked nonchalantly, “And what point was I making, my prince?”

Adam’s jaw clenched, an urge to break something rising higher and higher. 

“Dragging me down here without telling me first where we were going? Dirtying my beautiful clothes? Then you had your way with me on your terms. You wanted to make it clear what my _ place _ was in this. Now you’re trying to lay claim to-?”

“Did I hurt you in any way you did not want?” Jafar interrupted. 

“Only my pride,” Adam admitted with a scowl. 

“Then what exactly is the problem?” Jafar took a single step, already in Adam’s personal space. They were about the same height, but at that moment Adam felt small under that gaze. Still, he held his ground.

“We will not be spending another moment down here.”

Jafar inched closer, their faces nearly touching. 

“Alright,” he said, “but don’t think that means I’ll allow you the upper hand during our next encounter.” Adam could feel Jafar’s body heat this close and damn it, he really wanted to kiss him again. “In fact, next time I’m going to make you beg for me to do terrible things to you. You will be aching for me. Whether or not I decide to be generous enough to ease your burning will be another matter.”

Adam didn’t give him the pleasure of shivering at the vague images Jafar’s promise conjured to his mind. In fact, he remained silent on the matter long after the two parted ways. 

He only broke his silence once he returned to his guest suite, demanding Lumiere run him a bath, ignoring any and all questioning looks about the filth that clung to his clothes. He waited until he was alone before he completely stripped down and climbed into the tub. 

Adam loved bathing. Baths were clean, they were solitary. A good place to think or to clear one’s mind, whichever was most needed. Usually he would take his time, enjoy the hot water, but now all he wanted to do was scrub Jafar off of him. He wanted to scrub the feel of his skin against his, the dried cum on his inner thigh, the embarrassing inquiry about Adam’s sexual history. 

Not that he had pushed too much on the subject of Adam’s experience. Despite his smugness, Jafar only asked out of interest, which would be comforting if not for the use of the subject as a smokescreen to see if his plan to subjugate Adam had worked. To determine if Adam _ naturally _ took on that role during intercourse. The worst part of that conversation was that Jafar’s guess wasn’t wrong. 

Adam had been with men before, yes, but never had he ever let any of them screw him like that. The closest he had ever come to that was being fingered by an opera singer in Paris on one memorable summer evening. Adam considered that a good memory, but he could imagine the smug smirk on Jafar’s face if he told him how he had come merely on the singer’s fingers alone. 

Casual sex in general was far from new for Adam. He’d been taking subjects to bed since he was seventeen. What _ was _ new for Adam was that feeling. Like he was _ dirty _. And it wasn’t because of the grime from the unkept tunnels of the palace. It was Jafar and his silver tongue with his venomous words that infected his body and mind. Adam had thought scratching that itch would ease something between them. But now he was sure he hated Jafar more than ever. 

And yet… 

Their encounter had been less than an hour ago and Adam could already feel the stirrings of arousal just thinking about the way Jafar had ordered him to spread his legs. About the feel of Jafar inside of him and the way he had tugged on Adam’s hair. About the promise of their ‘next encounter.’ 

This wasn’t the end of it. More was to come and Adam hated how excited that thought made him. His shoulders heaved as anger boiled under his skin. He grit his teeth to keep from letting out a howl of fury. 

_ Damn Jafar! Damn this place! Damn these desires… Damn… _

Adam shifted uncomfortably in the tub, embarrassed at the realization that he was probably going to be sore tomorrow. If they were going to keep doing this, then he was definitely going to have a talk with Jafar about those nails of his. They had to have done some sort of damage up there that Adam didn’t want to think about. 

Suddenly, his anger faded and an amused laugh bubbled up from his chest and emerged as a sigh. 

“What am I doing?” he muttered to himself. 

It was funny, wasn’t it? Terribly funny. Adam held so much power in his everyday life, but allowing Jafar to take control like that was so… exhilarating. He laughed again as he thought about how Jafar’s tricks got to him. How on edge they put him. Jafar had done it all on purpose. To mess with him, to dirty his clothes and remind him that he was just like him. So he could put up more walls that Jafar could just as easily tear down.

When he was as clean as he could be, Adam stepped out of the tub, threw a robe on and walked towards the mirror over the wash bowl. He eyed himself. Luckily, his lips showed no sign of being bitten, no blemish that gave any indication of what they had done. He loosened the sash of his robe and opened it up enough to get a good look at the damage. There were faint bite marks where his shoulder met his neck, barely noticeable now. He sighed as he ran a finger along the bruise on his hip. 

There would be no good excuse for that one. He never usually cared if his exploits left marks on his body for his dressers to see. He was a prince and what happened in his bedroom was none of their business.

_ Funny _ , he thought, _ you made such a big deal of how much in control you are, and yet you left only minimal evidence to show for it _. He smirked and muttered under his breath, “You’re going to have to do better than that, Jafar.”

And he was going to give Jafar plenty of opportunity to do so. Adam liked what had happened with Jafar in the chamber. He wanted to keep having that as long as he could during his stay. Jafar had been the first man to fuck him like that and despite the soreness, Adam wanted him to do it again. In hindsight, Jafar’s attempts to make him feel unbalanced before they had sex had added to the thrill of it. Adam didn’t particularly want him to do _ that _ again, but he _ wanted _Jafar so badly, his entire being seemed to hum in anticipation. He’d never wanted anybody this much. 

Jafar was a bastard. A filthy bastard from the filthy streets who fucked him in a filthy chamber. But also a beautiful bastard from a beautiful country who made him come undone so beautifully. 

If Jafar liked playing games, then Adam wouldn’t disappoint him. 

Not many were allowed into the Sultan’s High Council. It was much smaller than it had been in Hamed’s father’s time. Jafar could recall his early days in the palace when he was still getting used to not fighting for scraps of food in the street. Hamed, a prince then, had taken him in and given him a purpose. What he had seen in the skinny little child then, Jafar never really asked. But he took the opportunity and made certain not to squander it as best he could. 

Hamed’s father had not been so kind to him; at best he ignored the orphan boy who carried in a goblet of wine on a tray, or scrubbed the floors. Only once in those days did Jafar witness the Sultan's High Council at work. He was sent inside the room to deliver a message to Prince Hamed. Strange how memories work… if asked, Jafar could still recall what he had said: _ “General Cassim sends word that Shirabad has taken the southern sea.” _

The young boy would remember the ugly face of Hamed’s father twisting into a nastier scowl, then showing him his backhand for his trouble. For delivering a message. 

But Hamed was not his father. He never physically hurt Jafar, ever. And he was far more confident and trusting in the men of his High Council. The numbers over time dwindled from fifty to twelve, including himself and Jafar, which allowed for fewer unnecessary debates and for more work to get done.

But today Jafar wasn’t dwelling on old memories. As Hamed’s head of treasury - a sixty-five year old man named Karim who had more trysts with sex workers in a week than good ideas in half a year - droned on about the budget for the harvest festival, Jafar’s mind continuously returned to the few hours prior. 

He could still hear the sounds he had pulled out of Adam’s throat, the feel of how he clenched around him. Jafar licked his lips, remembering the taste of Adam’s mouth. He was grateful that he was sitting in layers of robes, or else his half-erect cock would be obvious for half the room to see. Damn it, he couldn’t wait to touch the pretty, irritable prince again… 

“Vizier, is my budget plan boring you?”

Jafar looked up at the old bastard without missing a beat.

“Yes, it is,” he stated bluntly. “All you’re doing is reciting the same plan you introduced months ago.”

Karim’s shoulders visibly tensed, hunching slightly - it was something Jafar noticed he did a lot, especially when he was angry.

“And, my Vizier, I am explaining that everything is running smoothly as planned.”

“Then that is all you had to say. Why waste our time unnecessarily going over minute details we already know?” 

“Jafar is right,” Hamed spoke up, “if there is nothing new to share or any problems that have arisen, then I suggest we move forward.”

Karim glared at Jafar as he said through gritted teeth, “Yes, your highness.”

Jafar kept his mouth in a firm straight line, but with his large, expressive eyes he smiled as Karim took his seat.

There was a strange tension in the air as Prince Adam sat down to dine with the Sultan and his Royal Vizier once again. Hamed must have noticed it, for he seemed to be sitting uncomfortably between the two men, as if he was waiting for an explosion to go off.

But no such thing occurred. 

“...It would be far more effective to place more guards in the marketplace,” said Jafar, midway through their meal. “More force, less theft. It is that simple.”

“Jafar, must we go through this again?” the Sultan asked tiredly. 

Jafar frowned and locked eyes with the man across the table, and said, “Prince Adam, what would you do if your nearby village was plagued with theft and crime? Surely you wouldn’t just allow the people to fend for themselves.”

Adam paused, glass of wine halfway to his mouth. He lowered it as the Sultan straightened his posture and turned to him.

“Well, uhh…” The nearby village was so small that most of the villagers were friends and family (according to Lumiere at least) and so tightly knitted into what happened in the castle, crime was a rarity. Adam decided to take that gulp of wine before answering after all. He lowered it once again and finally said, “Of course we would get involved. But the town is much smaller than your city and weeding out the few rotten apples would not be so difficult. A third of the town residents work directly within the castle grounds, so they report directly to my father.”

Jafar smirked.

“Quite different circumstances,” said the Sultan, relieved that Adam didn’t throw any sort of sneer into his answer. 

“Of course, you’re right, my Prince,” Jafar tipped his head.

The Sultan glanced between the two again, then took a long drink of wine of his own.

Jafar couldn’t concentrate on his books and ledgers. They lay there, open and untouched on his desk. His mind still circled the events of the afternoon, and of the way he and Prince Adam couldn’t take their eyes off each other at dinner.

Red flashed in the corner of his eye as Iago landed on his perch in the study. 

“Evening, Master,” he said, his wings settling on his sides. 

“Why aren’t you watching our guest, Iago?”

“Bratty prince left his room. Coming here.”

Jafar’s stomach turned. He opened his mouth to tell the parrot to clarify, when a knock came at the door. 

“Leave us,” he hissed at Iago, who bobbed his head then took off into the night. He barely heard the “Yes, Master,” only the sudden pounding of his blood pumping through his veins.

The knock came again and Jafar found himself quickly standing to meet whoever was on the other side. He moved to open the latch, surprised at the slight quiver in his hand. He swallowed thickly and opened the door.

Prince Adam turned and flashed those perfect teeth at the sight of him. 

“Royal Vizier,” he said with a slight incline of his head.

Jafar said nothing, but stepped aside to allow him in. Adam accepted the silent invitation, purposefully brushing against him as he passed. Jafar gathered himself as he closed the door. 

“Would you like some tea?” he offered, managing to keep his voice steady.

“No, thank you.”

Adam was glancing about the room as he had earlier that morning. A morning that felt so long ago, and here they were again. This time he kept his hands to himself as his eyes flickered across the books and the orrery. There was something different in his gaze. The first time he seemed to be trying to absorb who Jafar was by what he kept on his shelves. Now it seemed to be more of an excuse to not directly look at his host, which Jafar found relieving. He didn’t want Adam to look at him just yet.

So Adam glanced about without comment, Jafar taking him in as he did so.

He had noticed the prince’s change of attire at dinner. The dirtied pastel pink of that afternoon had been swapped for a pastel blue. Blue was definitely more Adam’s color; it brought out his eyes. He wondered if there was a richer dark blue in that expensive wardrobe somewhere. 

Jafar began to picture Adam in deep reds, black, and gold. They would clash terribly with that pale complexion, and yet it would be undeniably attractive. That frame dressed in Jafar’s colors, now that was a thought. Then there was the thought of tearing those fabrics off...

With as much calm as he could muster, Jafar walked over to his desk and began closing books and stacking piles of papers, then setting each aside on another table or shelf. He could feel Adam’s gaze on him then as the desk was completely cleared, likely for the first time in years. 

At last, Jafar turned to face him. He opened his mouth, but Adam had his response ready first.

“No,” he said.

“What?”

“You’re not going to fuck me on there.”

“Afraid it’ll dirty your fancy clothing, Prince? Do not worry, you will not be needing them-”

“Sit in the chair, _ Vizier _,” Adam purred. Jafar narrowed his eyes. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

“No, no, no. That’s not how this works.”

“It’s how this time works.” 

Jafar wanted to argue, wanted to push back… but _ fuck _ he was already so hard right now, and he’d be lying if he said he never thought about them in this position. So, for once, he played along and surrendered. 

“Next time-” he started.

“Oh, sit down already and tell me where you keep your lubricant,” Adam smirked, discarding his outer jacket over the desk.

Adam sank down onto Jafar’s cock with only a huff of discomfort as he adjusted to his size. He held onto Jafar’s shoulders for support, while Jafar gripped his hips to steady him. Once he was buried to the hilt, Jafar encouraged him to slowly move up, then down again.

They were both still mostly clothed -Adam nude from the waist down and Jafar in only his tunic and pants, which were pulled down to his knees. 

Adam continued to move slowly, his eyes locked onto Jafar’s. A part of Jafar wanted to look away, to make this a little less intimate than it was. But if he did look away, then Adam would win. This was a test, not just to see if Jafar could be ordered into position, so to speak, but if he could handle being this _ close _. 

Jafar almost regretted asking about deflowering Adam earlier that day. Almost.

Watching the way Adam’s face contorted as Jafar filled him made everything he didn’t like about this worth it. 

“_ Merde _, you’re big,” Adam growled, moving just a little faster into a reasonable pace. 

Jafar grinned, digging his nails into pale hips and dragging across Adam’s buttock. 

“You like that? Little slut.”

“Fuck you.”

“I am.” Jafar thrust upward, meeting Adam’s movements halfway. 

Adam’s jaw dropped as he whined, “_ Gods _.” His forehead pressed against Jafar’s as they set a quicker rhythm, with their hips meeting with every thrust. His untied blond hair fell around his face as he leaned down to kiss Jafar fervently.

They lasted longer than last time, but as before, Adam began making more noises the closer he got to the edge. Jafar sneaked a hand between them and wrapped it around Adam’s cock. 

“That’s it, my pretty prince, like that. With you bouncing on my-”

Adam came with a shout as he buried his face into Jafar’s shoulder. Jafar kept stroking him, kept thrusting up into him, even though Adam had stopped moving. Adam whined as Jafar hit his prostate again and again. 

Feeling completely boneless, he did nothing as Jafar stood and lay him down on the desk and continued to pound into him. Jafar wrapped his hands around Adam’s wrists, pinning him above his head, likely leaving new bruises. 

“Jafar, I can’t- Oh god-” 

Jafar hissed into his ear, “Is this what you want? Tell me.”

“Yes! Jafar-”

Jafar thrust deeply twice more, then came hard with a loud grunt. 

They both lay there, unmoving for a moment as he softened inside of Adam, his shoulders shaking and both of them panting. At last, Jafar pulled out and collapsed into his chair, the wood creaking under him. 

Jafar was certain the entirety of yesterday had been a dream. It had to be. He must have caught whatever ailment Jasmine was suffering and had a vivid dream in the height of a fever. But no. As Jafar arose the following morning, he realized that his relationship with Prince Adam had truly dramatically shifted in the past day. 

After all, he would not have removed all of his paperwork from his desks without reason; he woke that morning to remember he hadn’t replaced it the night before. 

Breakfast was a strange affair.

They mostly ate in silence. If any conversation was had it was between Hamed and either one of the two. Adam kept shooting glances Jafar’s way at every opportunity, and while Jafar was able to ignore him successfully, he couldn’t help but wonder if Adam was trying to silently communicate to him via staring. At one point, Jafar did finally lock eyes with him and found a secretive smirk on the prince’s face, followed by a triumphant and flirtatious wink.

_ Impossible brat. _

The Sultan had matters to attend to and parted from them soon after he finished eating. Jafar continued to avoid looking at Adam for the rest of breakfast.

Adam hadn’t yet emptied his plate when Jafar rose, but followed him out anyway. 

Jafar said nothing and continued to walk without any actual destination. Adam stayed on his heel, not saying a word. Shoulders tense, Jafar wished he would; he hated Adam acting like a puppy following him around. 

They turned a corner into an empty hallway closed off from the outside, and Adam finally pounced. He shoved Jafar into an alcove off the corridor, mouth on his. Jafar nearly dropped his staff in surprise, but he recovered quickly and kissed him back. 

“I don’t have time for this,” he growled against Adam’s invasive mouth. 

“Sure you do,” said Adam, his hands flying to Jafar’s sash. “Just a little something quick.”

Jafar didn’t protest as Adam maneuvered his hand past the cloth and layers, and wrapped his fingers around Jafar’s cock. Jafar cursed under his breath as Adam took no time to set a steady pace. 

No, this wasn’t a fever dream. This was happening and it was going to keep happening. 

Good.

_ So good… _

Jafar was already close. He exhaled through his teeth as he felt his climax building. Adam smirked with the corner of his mouth, teeth showing; it was a look that was both irritating and attractive, and it was something very unique to Adam. Jafar roughly grabbed him by the back of the head and pulled him in for a kiss to muffle any noise he made as he came in Adam’s hand.

As he pulled back, there was a distant sound of a trumpet being blown. The two hardly noticed or cared.

The moment Jafar’s clothing was put back into order, it finally hit him. 

“We have to go,” he said, starting off down the hall. 

Adam followed after him again, cleaning his hand with his handkerchief, with a reasonable “Why?”

“Because, Prince Adam,” Jafar replied, “if that fanfare in the distance is any indication, a romantic rival of yours has just arrived.”

Prince Florian, too, was from the west, though - from Jafar’s understanding - a little farther north. With his rich brown hair and pale blue eyes, Florian couldn’t be much younger than Adam and yet his boyish, clean-shaven face and soft smile suggested even younger. If Jafar didn’t know any better, he’d say the charming prince was hardly over twenty. 

But he did know better, for Agrabah had had dealings with Germany before and while he hadn’t met the young prince until now, he remembered speaking to his older brother some years ago. Prince Ferdinand hadn’t said much about his brother, only that at the time Florian was likely to be married into a foreign country -something Hamed never forgot and had since eagerly hoped that Jasmine would take a shine to him should he ask for her hand. 

And here the young prince was, looking rather spectacular in his red traveling cape, boots, white shirt and blue outer tunic. He had removed his feathered hat upon entering the court and graciously bowed to the Sultan. This boy had been working towards this for years and it showed. Jafar briefly wondered if Jasmine would have been at all impressed. The boy wasn’t nearly as cocky in his mannerisms as most princes and only time would tell if any of his charm was genuine.

Prince Adam had been given the choice to join them in meeting his new rival with the rest of the court, to which Adam abstained, saying he would meet Prince Florian at dinner. Fair enough on its surface. Adam would be a distraction and Prince Florian deserved a chance to make his case to the Sultan without a rival present. 

It was completely unlike Adam. Adam would _ love _ the attention that was diverted from the new prince to him, to make him uneasy by simply standing off to the side to show him who he was up against. It would give Adam a leg up in the situation… Though Jafar wondered if that was why he had declined to be there for Florian’s first impression. Did Adam not care? Was he so desperate to get back to France that he welcomed another Prince to sweep Jasmine off her feet? 

Jafar still did not quite understand where Adam stood in the situation. Did he still want to romance the princess or was their arrangement a statement that he truly did not want to marry her? 

Either way, the competition was already promising. The Sultan seemed pleased with Florian’s manners, the way the boy held himself, the brilliant smile on his kind face. He was exactly what the Sultan was looking for. Whether or not he would be what Jasmine was looking for was another matter.

“Word reached me during my travels that the Princess had fallen ill,” said Prince Florian, looking saddened by this, as if it was the most tragic thing he’d ever heard. If he was anything less than sincere, he hid it well.

“I’m afraid so, young prince,” Hamed replied. “She has been sick for several days now and while our doctors say she is recovering, it could be another week at the least until she is well enough to have visitors.”

“Oh, I see.”

“You are most welcome to stay until then, if you wish.” There was blatant hope in Hamed’s voice that did not go unnoticed by anyone, including Florian who seemed to brighten at the offer.

“I would be honored!”

Jafar kept an indifferent mask on as he brought up the elephant in the room - or rather, the prince that was not in the room. 

“Prince Florian, there is something you should know. A romantic rival, Prince Adam of France, is also staying in the royal palace, also awaiting an audience with the princess.”

“Oh.” 

“He did not wish to upset your first meeting with the Sultan. He sends his regards and a message that he’s looking forward to meeting you at dinner tonight.”

Florian’s beaming smile did not falter. 

“Why, what a true gentleman! I look forward to meeting him.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Jafar saw Hamed give him a look. One that read, ‘We both know Adam sent no such message.’ But Hamed said nothing to contradict the lie.

Adam was tempted to powder his face that night, but with enough discouragement from Plumette (apparently it would appear as if he was trying too hard), he resigned to simply dress in one of his finer lace suits. His golden hair curled at the sides of his head, his shoes shone in the early evening light. 

He adjusted his outer jacket in the mirror for the tenth time. 

“Sire, you look spectacular!” said Lumiere off to the side. 

“I need to look_ better _ than spectacular,” Adam sneered. “I’ve heard Florian’s name before in court. Before we left, the Duchess of Bourbon told me that Florian is the current favored of the suitors. They call him ‘Prince Charming,’ they say he has the voice of an angel.”

“But you have the face of an angel, my prince!” said Plumette.

“Sweet of you, Plume, but if I’m going to win over Princess Jasmine’s heart I need more than just my looks. I need talent, I need wit, I need to be better than him. The only reason he’s not already engaged to Jasmine is because the Sultan doesn’t care for arranged betrothals and wants her to choose her husband.”

Plumette and Lumiere exchanged a wary look. Lumiere raised an eyebrow that said ‘Should I ask?’ while Plumette mouthed the word ‘No.’ Lumiere spoke anyway.

“If I may, sire, but just the other day you were eager to leave.”

Adam paused his fiddling with his cravat and turned with a frown.

“This is not about what I want. It’s about my pride.” _ And my pride has suffered enough during my time here _ , he did not add. “What will the court say if I return home without so much as showing this German prince that I’m a far more qualified suitor? The German courts will surely hear of it and if the German courts hear of it, then every other European court will. If Jasmine rejects me, then I will be one of many. If Jasmine rejects me but chooses Florian over me, _ as I stand beside him _, then it will haunt me like a dark cloud over my head for years.”

Lumiere and Plumette exchanged another look.

Adam rolled his eyes. “I do not expect you to understand.” He turned back to the mirror, adjusted his cravat one last time, then said, “Florian should have stayed in Germany and waited his turn.”

“My god, he’s a _ child _.” Adam almost laughed at the sight of Florian from across the room. He smirked, watching his rival for a moment as he chatted up an Agrabahian nobleman. 

“Actually, he’s only three years younger than you.” 

A familiar warm prickle ignited at the back of Adam’s neck at the sound of Jafar’s voice as the man himself came into his line of vision and stood beside him.

“No way that boy is twenty-six. He cannot be old enough to _ shave _, much less be married.”

“I’m afraid it’s the truth.”

“What’s he like, before I meet him? Is he a _ brat _?” Adam said the word with heated amusement, making Jafar smirk.

“No. He’s rather _ charming _, actually. Very mature.”

“God. Don’t call him that.”

“What, ‘mature’?”

“Charming.”

“The Sultan seems to like him.”

“I’ve heard.”

“Play nice,” Jafar said, briefly placing his hand on Adam’s shoulder before slipping away over to the Sultan. 

Adam grumbled under his breath and rolled the shoulder that had just been touched. _ Play nice _. He wasn’t a child. Not like this Prince Charming looked to be. Adam sucked in a breath, forced a smile, and finally approached him.

Florian’s handsome grin widened at the sight of him. Adam bowed slightly, which Florian returned.

“Prince Adam of France,” he introduced himself.

“Prince Florian of Germany and I must say, it is a pleasure meeting you,” said Florian. “The Royal Vizier told me upon my arrival that you did not wish to upstage my introductions to the Sultan. To that, I am grateful.”

“Oh, the Royal Vizier said that, did he?” _ What else did that snake hiss? _he wondered, holding back a roll of his eyes.

“Yes, indeed. Tell me, Prince Adam, what do you make of the country so far?” Florian’s eyes shone with wonder and it made Adam curious to whether or not this was his first time visiting a foreign land. 

Luckily, Adam was temporarily spared any further conversation as it was announced dinner was to be served.

For the first time since arriving in Agrabah, Adam did not sit beside the Sultan; that honor went to Florian tonight. Instead he was placed on Jafar’s right, making this the first time they ever ate side-by-side. Their shoulders were close, but never touching. 

The Sultan and Florian spoke directly to each other most of the time. Adam kept his attention on their conversation, ready to jump in should the Sultan ask for his opinion. He didn’t. The longer the meal carried on, the more Adam found himself tuning everything out. 

Florian was exactly what the Sultan was looking for: Handsome, smart if not a little naive about certain political matters, good with speaking with politicians, and… ugh… yes, he was _ charming _. Adam was certain if he heard anyone say that word out loud again in relation to Florian, he would vomit. 

But most importantly, he hardly spoke a word to Jafar. 

The Sultan for once seemed at ease, probably glad Adam and Jafar hadn’t started their nightly bickering. 

Adam’s gaze flickered to Jafar more than it should, but dammit he was the only one not kissing Florian’s ass. Not to mention, he was _ much _ more pleasant to look at than the boyish prince across the table. However, Jafar paid him no mind as he, too, kept his head in the conversation.

Adam slipped a hand under the table and rested it on Jafar’s thigh. 

Jafar paused chewing only briefly before continuing on and taking a rather large drink of his wine. Adam pressed his hand further down and closer to Jafar’s pelvis. Further and further until he could feel the warmth of Jafar’s half-hard cock under his robes. 

Adam recalled only just touching him that morning, right there in the hallway, where anyone could have walked in on them. He cupped as much as Jafar’s clothes would allow and stroked. 

Jafar swallowed, but didn’t dare look at him. 

The Sultan asked him something about whatever mundane subject they were carrying on about; Jafar replied without batting an eye. Adam bit back the urge to smile at that. He pulled back only enough to blindly explore the lining of those robes to find some sort of opening. At last, his hand slid under the robes and his fingers curled around the outer shape of Jafar’s cock in his trousers. 

Jafar’s jaw clenched and he slipped his own hand under the table and snatched Adam’s wrist to wrench it away. Adam pouted and rested his hand on Jafar’s knee, which was also brushed aside. 

Jafar slowly turned his head.

“Stop it,” he hissed. 

This time Adam allowed himself to smirk, but did as requested and managed to keep his hands to himself for a few minutes longer. He swallowed down the rest of his dinner with a gulp of wine, his thoughts completely diverged from the topic of conversation and instead lingering on how Jafar would act should he have allowed Adam to continue.

He pictured Jafar’s jaw clenching and his posture stiffening, doing anything he could to hide what was being done to him. When he would come, his eyes would slide closed, his hands clenched into fists and his face would turn red. Or… perhaps he’d hunch over the table and finally give in and let out a loud, delicious moan that would turn all eyes in the room towards him. Everyone in the room would know what just happened and Jafar would be scandalized for life; he’d be furious. Likely grab Adam by the throat and drag him out of the banquet hall to teach him a lesson in his chambers, then likely kill him.

Adam shifted slightly, his breeches uncomfortably tighter than they had been twenty minutes ago. 

“What do you think, Prince Adam?” 

Florian’s soft voice hit Adam’s ears like cannonfire and all of a sudden at least half a dozen pairs of eyes were on him, one of which being Jafar’s, whose mouth had quirked up at the corner, clearly amused. Warmth flushed to Adam’s cheeks. He had absolutely no idea what they were discussing. Absent-mindedness was not a good look for trying to win the Sultan’s favor. 

“I don’t think Prince Adam’s views on_ taxing peasants _ is something controversial at all,” said Jafar, giving Adam a pointed look that read, ‘This is what we’re discussing, now say something.’

Adam blinked. Was Jafar _ covering _ for him? 

“Not at all,” Adam began, quickly ironing out any wrinkles of hesitation in his voice. “It is taxes that pay for fixing roads and buildings, and for security.”

“Not to mention for filling the pockets of the rich,” Florian added, a hint of disdain tainting his tone. “It is the lower classes that keep nobles and leaders afloat. We should be far more generous towards them, don’t you agree?”

Adam forced a smile and said, “Of course.”

This conversation was killing his buzz. His leg bounced slightly, wishing dinner would end soon. He was in no mood for debating politics with foreign royals; he didn’t even have strong feelings towards such things, and he didn’t want to say the wrong thing. 

Florian opened his mouth to say something, but the voice on Adam’s left beat him to it.

“I hear Prince Ferdinand has become more involved in the politics of the German court,” said Jafar. 

“Yes, Father is very proud of him,” Florian replied, his smile returning. “I think Mother wants him to marry soon before he climbs any further.”

“Does it bother her that the younger son may marry before the elder?” Adam interjected. Beside him, Jafar stilled. 

“No, actually, she’s quite confident that he’ll marry a princess from one of the local kingdoms.”

“Of course.”

“May I ask, Prince Adam, why haven’t you married yet? Surely there are beautiful women in France who would be glad to-”

“And why haven’t you married a local German girl?” Adam snapped back. 

Florian paused, then replied, “If I am married, it is supposed to be for a kingdom that has no male heir. I’m not in line for my own throne, so it is my job to bring kingdoms together. Which is why I do not understand it if you are next in line for your throne.”

“France split into several factions long ago. There is not much to inherit in the land my father rules.” Adam kept his gaze averted from everyone at the table, his voice low. “We, too, must bring kingdoms together.”

This wasn’t a secret by any means. The Sultan knew it before Adam had arrived, for he had exchanged letters with the French King. But judging by the silence, he hadn’t told anyone precisely why Adam, an only heir, would try to court a foreign princess of a kingdom he would then have to rule, should she have him. 

Adam polished off the last of his wine, pointedly ignoring Jafar, inches away, who was staring wide-eyed at him. 

The Sultan cleared his throat, then asked Florian, “Is there any chance of you staying until our harvest festival in two weeks?”

The room breathed a sigh of relief at the change of subject.

“I suppose that would depend on Princess Jasmine’s health,” Florian replied. “If she recovers by then and has not rejected me, then I would be delighted.”

As they carried on their discussion of the history of the festival, Adam could feel Jafar’s relentless gaze still on him. 

“What?” he growled.

“Why did you not tell me?” said Jafar.

“Tell you what? I’m surprised you never considered the possibility that it wasn’t just about marrying a princess. There are plenty of princesses in the world, but none of which have such a _ bounteous opportunity _ as Jasmine’s hand.”   
“Are those your words?”

“My father’s.” Something about Jafar knowing that irked Adam in a way he could not explain. “Do not begin to assume you _ know _me, Vizier,” he growled. 

“I assume nothing, _ my prince _.”

Adam’s hand clenched into a fist as he finally met Jafar’s gaze. 

“I think you assume _ plenty _,” he said, keeping his voice hushed between them.

“Do you really want to do this here?” Jafar asked, doing the same.

“I want you to remember who it is you are speaking to.”

“Prince Adam of the tiny area of France, I know. You just told the entire Agrabah court.”

“You’re a bastard.”

“You lack creativity in your insults. Is that because your land is so miniscule on a map?”

“Not as miniscule as your observation skills. You have no idea of what…” Adam trailed off as he caught the Sultan’s eye over Jafar’s shoulder. Those kind brown eyes looked disappointed. Adam sank back in his seat. Jafar turned, his visible anger simmering down at the sight of the Sultan and Florian both watching them. 

“Jafar, Prince Adam,” said the Sultan, “could you _ please _ refrain from arguing every time we dine?”

“Every time?” Florian said, glancing between the two. 

“I’m afraid Prince Adam and I never quite see eye-to-eye,” Jafar explained. “Apologies, my Sultan.”

“And mine,” said Adam. 

The Sultan sighed and shook his head. 

“It is embarrassing that this has gone on as long as it has. Last night I thought you two had finally stopped, but now I see that is not the case. Prince Adam, I expected more from you and I believe you can do better.”

Adam nodded, his gaze downcast in a guilt that usually only Mrs. Potts could ever drag from him.

“Jafar, my trusted advisor, you too should know better.” The Sultan pointed a finger. “Remember your place. You will make peace with Prince Adam here. And that shall be the end of it.” He looked them both in the eyes, then rose to exit the room.

Adam glanced over at Jafar and stopped short. Jafar looked pale and his entire body had gone rigid. Neither said another word for the rest of dinner.

Jafar had removed his turban and outer robes so he sat in only his tunic and pants, his head in his hands. He breathed in deeply once, twice… then sat back and stared up at the stone ceiling. His body trembled in fury as he took another deep breath. He glanced over at where Iago sat perched on the windowsill, eating birdseed at his leisure. 

“He scolded me again, Iago,” he told the parrot. 

Iago looked up and squawked, “Second!?”

“Shut up!”

“Sorry, Master.” Iago bowed his head, then returned to his food. Once finished, he flapped his wings and took off into the night to scour the city. A nightly ritual Jafar had trained him to do a long time ago. Look out across the city, report back anything important or potentially useful.

“Years of research and I’m no closer to finding it…” He scrubbed a hand over his face as a knock came at his study door. “Who is it!?”

“It’s me,” said Adam from the other side of the door.

“Go away.”

“Are you angry at me because I didn’t tell you my father’s reasons for wanting me to wed Jasmine, or because you embarrassed yourself in front of the Sultan?”

“I embarrassed_ myself _!?”

“Alright, perhaps I had a hand in it-”

“Oh, you had your _ hands _ everywhere! Lecherous prince!”

“Jafar, let me in.”

“No! Go away!”

“The Sultan said we have to work out our differences.”

Jafar tensed and spat, “Not now! _ Leave me! _”

There was a heavy pause that lasted long enough for Jafar to wonder if Adam had left. Then, “Open the_ damn door! _ I’m sick of your self-pitying delusions of how above others you think yourself, you pathetic little street rat! You know _ nothing _ of-”

Jafar bounded up to the door as Adam shouted, then swung it open hard enough that it banged against the wall from the force of it.

“_ I _ think myself above others!? You are the most selfish, impossible, elitist little shit I have ever met!” he snarled.

“At least I’m not a coward, hiding away in my tower, wallowing in-”

“Are you coming inside or not?” Jafar interrupted.

“I wasn’t finished!” Adam deflated slightly and said, “But yes.” 

The moment the door was closed behind him, Jafar grabbed Adam by the front of his jacket and shoved him against the wall, his mouth claiming his in a biting kiss that left Adam breathless. 

“I hate you,” Jafar hissed. 

“I hate you more,” Adam growled, pushing him back, then taking Jafar by the back of his head and shoving his tongue inside his mouth. 

Jafar backed up, taking Adam with him without breaking the kiss, until his backside bumped up against the still-cleared desk. He grabbed at Adam’s jacket, jerking it down his shoulders. The kiss slowed as Adam finished removing the jacket himself and flung it vaguely in the direction of the chair. He cracked an eye open to see if it made it. He missed. He broke away to go fix it, but Jafar had a firm grip on his waist.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“You don’t clean up here enough. It’ll get dirty…” Jafar cut him off with another kiss, this one slow, his tongue exploring Adam’s mouth. 

“Leave it.”

“Plumette is already upset at the state of my clothes from the other day.”

“I don’t care.”

“Yes, well, I-”

“_ Shut up _.” Jafar reached behind Adam’s head and pulled the ribbon from his hair. The ribbon forgotten on the floor, Jafar carded his fingers through Adam’s long blond hair, combing out the curls until they fell into his face. Jafar tightened his grip at the hair close to Adam’s scalp and drew him in for another kiss. 

Adam moaned into it, his own hands groping for the edge of Jafar’s tunic, then sliding underneath to touch the skin there. He paused.

“Don’t stop,” Jafar growled, his brow furrowing.

“What’s this?” Adam asked, his fingers tracing along bumped flesh. Scars. 

“Don’t ask.”

“What happened to-”

“Stop. Just-” Jafar shoved Adam’s wandering hands away, then spun them around so Adam was pinned between the desk and Jafar’s body. 

Jafar thrust his hips against Adam’s, not bothering to remove any more clothes. Adam’s breath hitched as he ground back. Jafar bit at Adam’s neck as his thigh came up between Adam’s so they could get a better angle. They held onto each other as they rutted against the other, desperate for release.

Jafar came first with a loud, breathy moan, his hips stuttering. He stayed there for a moment, not looking Adam in the eye. Then, slowly, he dropped to his knees, his hands finding the buttons on Adam’s breeches. 

He gently pulled Adam’s cock out and quickly took it in his mouth. He bobbed his head clumsily, eager to get Adam off. He swirled his tongue around the head, making Adam throw his head back and mutter a soft, “Yes.” His breathing grew heavy as Jafar took in as much as he could, hollowing his cheeks. 

Jafar closed his eyes, concentrating as he poured all of his focus into this one act. He pressed his tongue against the underside of Adam’s cock as he moved, a strangled moan escaping Adam’s throat. Jafar’s eyes slid open as he looked up at him through his dark lashes. Adam was watching him with a dazed look in his eyes, as if the sight of Jafar like this was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. Moments later, he came down Jafar’s throat with a sigh.


	6. Insecure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Sorry this chap took so long to finish. I had to wrestle with a few scenes and I hope you end up liking them! I think you'll be pleased to hear I have the majority of the rest of the fic (including the ending) drafted out, so hopefully the next chap won't take as long to get out there. 
> 
> I wasn't planning on posting on Christmas Eve, but it just sort of ended up getting done by today so Merry Christmas!! Happy Holidays!!! Stay safe and healthy out there <3
> 
> As always, a HUGE SHOUT-OUT TO MY LOVELY BETA [DownToTheSea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DownToTheSea/pseuds/DownToTheSea)!!!!

Adam decided he didn’t like Jafar’s pet bird. He didn’t like how it could talk like a man or how it seemed to spy on everyone and everything. Or how it liked to call him “Spoiled brat.” It didn’t take a genius to figure out where he picked _ that _one up from. 

Iago was perched on the windowsill, staring back at him as Jafar handed Adam a cup of tea.

“Why do you keep that thing?” Adam asked, his voice low. 

Jafar sipped his tea as he sat down at his desk.

“Iago was a gift,” he explained. “He and I didn’t get along at first when he was smaller, but we grew closer over the years. He can be useful for many things - I wouldn’t get too close, though.”

Adam froze, quite sure Iago had just narrowed his eyes at him. He frowned and backed away from the window to stand closer to Jafar, who was writing something down in a ledger. 

“What are you doing?” Adam asked, casually, though still not taking his eyes off the parrot.

“Working.”

“It’s late.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Do you start working after every time you and I are intimate?” Adam joked, finally turning away from Iago and settling down in the chair opposite Jafar. He sipped his tea, frowned, then sipped again. “Is that what turns you on? Work? Usually I’m rather hungry after.”

The scratching of Jafar’s quill pen paused as he looked up at the annoying prince.

“‘Every time’? You say that like we’ve been going about this for months instead of a little over a week.”

“So is that a yes?” 

“No.” Jafar bowed his head, returning to his work. 

Adam sighed and glanced over at Iago again, who was cleaning his bright red feathers. “Does the bird ever watch us fu-”

“If I threw you out the window and said it was an accident, the Sultan would believe me without hesitation,” Jafar said without looking up. 

“I’m sure he would,” Adam replied with a smile. He leaned back and put his feet up on the table, crossing them at the ankles. Jafar scowled and shoved them off.

“Don’t you have somewhere to _ be _, young prince!?”

Adam chuckled, pleased with how easy it was to rile him up. He straightened his posture and set his tea down, his eyes not leaving Jafar once. 

Jafar really was thoroughly buried in his work, as if only minutes ago Adam hadn’t just had his tongue up his-

“Are you planning on staring at me _ all night _?” Jafar asked, once again not looking up. 

Adam drew closer and slipped behind Jafar’s chair.

“I don’t know. Are you planning on working all night?” He leaned over Jafar’s shoulder, sliding a hand down his front. Jafar stiffened. 

“You are an insatiable little...”

Adam blew air into Jafar’s ear, then nipped at the shell. 

“Oh, don’t mind me,” he said, his hand slipping under the collar of Jafar’s tunic and gently scratching at the warm skin there. Adam kissed just behind Jafar’s ear, then nibbled at the skin of his neck. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

Jafar pressed his pen to the paper again, but wrote nothing. 

“I have a meeting tomorrow morning,” he said. “I must have this proposal of finances finished before then. You’re distracting me.”

“Yes, I am,” Adam agreed with a wicked grin before mouthing at Jafar’s jawline and pinched his nipple. 

Jafar hissed and craned his head to the side, out of reach, his elbow jerking back to push Adam away.

“Enough.” 

Adam pouted and placed a hand on Jafar’s ledger. 

“No, no, no. The night’s still young,” he said, sliding into Jafar’s lap, straddling him. When he met no resistance, he brushed his thumb along Jafar’s lower lip and leaned in for a kiss.

Jafar snatched Adam's wrist and pulled it away. Adam could feel Jafar’s erection poking at him under his robes; he ground against it, earning a sharp exhale from Jafar. 

“Insatiable brat,” he said, his voice low. 

Adam smirked. “If I recall,” he said, “a moment ago _ you _ were the one that had your robes pulled up to your waist and _ you _ were the one bucking back against my mouth.” He licked his lips. “Quite selfish of you to not even so much as return the favor.”

“I’m a busy man.”

“I know-”

“I don’t have all night. What do you want?” Jafar sneered, clearly bored by Adam’s games. Or just impatient. That only made what Adam desired clearer. He leaned in, their lips barely touching.

“I want you naked,” he said. “Completely. In a bed. No more half-dressed encounters in dark tunnels and over your desk - though the latter is rather nice. But right now I want you to fill me up, for us to both make such a mess of the sheets it’ll be embarrassing to give to the servants to clean in the morning, for us to reach such an impossible heated ecstasy that we collapse in a heap with only the air blowing in from the window to cool us.” He paused for emphasis. “And I want to see _ all _of you.” 

Jafar held his gaze for a minute, hardly blinking and without giving away whatever was going on in that head of his. Adam let him take his time, admiring the way his face looked in the evening torchlight. 

Finally, Jafar spoke. “Go back to your room, young prince.” He placed his hands on Adam’s hips and gently pushed him off. 

Adam frowned.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I am tired and I have to be-”

“I don’t mean for tonight. Alright, fine, you’re tired. Why don’t you ever want me to see you without your clothes on, hm? _ I’ve _ been completely naked during several of our little rendezvous, but you always keep your torso covered.”

Jafar stared off into the middle distance, saying nothing. Adam thought he wasn’t going to get a straight answer out of him, when Jafar finally said, “Some people have scars that are not as faint as yours. I am not ready for you to see mine.”

He left it at that and returned to his work, hunched over his ledger and scribbling about finances. Adam stared at him, utterly taken aback. He had never heard Jafar say anything like that before. He watched those deft fingers flip a page back on a book, turn back to the previous page, then settle. He watched as a small crease formed between Jafar’s eyebrows as he concentrated. He watched as Jafar continued on as if he hadn’t just said what he said. An opening, a potential vulnerability. So Jafar had those too. Adam envied his ability to hide them so. And he understood.

So Adam murmured a brief “Goodnight,” and left Jafar to his work.

Lumiere and Plumette’s time in Agrabah was going far smoother than any other they’d served the royal family. Often in the past week they’d been given longer stretches of liberty than they expected to simply enjoy each other’s company. To sit out under the warm sun and look out to the vast horizon. 

Prince Adam took many walks about the palace during the day, though every night sometime after dinner he seemed to disappear and not return for hours at a time. 

Lumiere and Plumette weren’t idiots. Despite his reasons for being a guest in the palace, it was clear Adam had found company in someone’s arms. 

Lumiere hoped it was the Princess, that perhaps she was feigning her illness so that she and Adam could continue on with an exciting secret relationship; that any day now, it would be revealed Princess Jasmine was well again and that she and Adam were engaged. 

Plumette was less optimistic on that front. She believed it was probably a member of the palace staff, someone Adam shouldn’t be fooling around with, but that he would likely end it when the time came for them to leave. Adam wasn’t the type who had romances. But casual affairs? Those he had plenty of. 

Whether it was the princess herself or some kitchen hand, the couple took advantage of their master’s absence when they could. Lumiere loved to take Plumette out onto one of the grand balconies and whisper sweet nothings into her ear, perhaps slide a hand up her skirts. 

They were doing precisely that when Adam burst through the double doors of the guest suite. 

Plumette quickly pushed her skirts down and stood to attention beside her husband. 

Adam hardly seemed to notice the two on the balcony as he collapsed on the bed, hands covering his face. He dropped them to his sides and loudly exhaled.

“Sire?” Lumiere asked, stepping closer. 

Adam said nothing, but lay there, breathing in and out.

“My Prince?” Plumette leaned in, pressing the back of her hand against his forehead. It was a gesture she had started several years back, when Adam had had a nasty cold. In fear that he was contagious, staff interaction with him had been limited; Plumette had been the only one aside from the doctor allowed to tend to him during that time. 

Adam gently pushed her hand away, a silent ‘I’m fine.’

“May I ask the two of you a personal question?” he asked aloud.

Lumeire and Plumette exchanged a look, nodded, then Lumiere said, “Of course, sire.”

“Early on in your courtship, was there ever a time you discovered something about the other that changed the way you looked at them?”

The couple smiled. Plumette nervously giggled while Lumiere grinned.

“Well,” he started, “When we first-”

Adam's eyes snapped open and he quickly cut him off with a raised finger. “No, not that! I don’t want to hear about that. I meant…” He lowered his hand. “I meant, not physical things, but about who you were as people.”

“Oh,” Lumiere’s bright smile faltered. Plumette shook her head at him with a grin.

“Yes, my prince. I remember quite clearly learning about Lumiere’s childhood. He was very wary to share it with me.” She looked up at her husband again, silently asking if she could tell Adam. He smiled softly and nodded. She continued, “My darling Lumiere, he smiles so much and is the sweetest man in all of France! But he was not so happy as a child. He never knew his father and his mother was not kind. Cruel, even. My own parents were loving and kind; I could hardly imagine what that was like for him.”

Adam watched Lumiere carefully as she said this. 

“I never knew,” he said. Lumiere smiled weakly at him.

“And you see,” Plumette continued, “it did change the way I looked at him. But it also changed the way I acted around him. After he told me, I swore that I would do anything in my ability to make my love happy. But, if he needed to cry or be sad, then I would still be there for him. Lumiere, my first and only love.” She took his hand and kissed his knuckles. 

“Plumette.”

Adam smiled at them. Their answer was not what he was looking for and he did not understand love in the way his servants held it. He didn’t think he ever could. That life was not for him.

All he had was his lust. And Jafar, a man he was only just beginning to understand. 

Jafar did not like Prince Florian. 

Not in the same way he hated Adam, no that was pure hate (and sexual attraction). But Prince Florian was absolutely, disgustingly _ perfect _ . It was infuriating. Jafar wanted to believe it was all a lie, a deception to get his hands on the throne. But the boy was so damn _ sincere _ in every word he spoke, in every bow he took. 

Two nights into his stay he had sung for the Sultan at dinner. He _ sang _. It was some sort of folk ballad from his country that he hit every note of, his baritone swelled in all the right places, and the enthusiasm of his performance was enough to impress the Sultan thrice over. He had eagerly commented afterward that Jasmine would love to hear his singing as well.

Adam, who had been sitting beside Jafar with his jaw open the whole time, had quietly sunken into his seat, his face slightly paler than usual. Jafar had almost felt sorry for him.

A week later and Florian was still surprising his hosts. 

Jafar and Hamed had been discussing border patrols and whether or not they should add another ship to their sea border. If Jafar had his way, there would be a blockade there, but knowing Hamed, that was completely out of the question. Still, he could at least try to tighten security. But today was just one of those days where Hamed seemed exhausted by any and all suggestions Jafar was making about such matters. 

“We are a port kingdom,” he said. “By making it more difficult for foreign ships to dock here, fewer will come, which could put a strain on the trade market.”

“It is not about making it more difficult, but more _ secure _. We want our foreign traders to feel safe when they arrive. Not three weeks ago a pirate vessel attacked-”

“And they were dealt with, Jafar. Your new security protocols on the docks made sure of that. Everything was handled with little property damage and no one was hurt.”

“Would it not be preferable for there to be_ zero _property damage? Stopping such violent activities before they begin is far more important.” Jafar knew he was losing grip on his tone; the desire to eagerly get his point across was running ahead of him, bound to trip him up and make him sound like a child having a tantrum. It was something Jafar was working on, especially when speaking with Hamed. 

Hamed closed his eyes, tiredly looking like he was about to lecture Jafar, when a familiar voice spoke up from the open doorway of the Sultan’s office. 

“I am so sorry to intrude, but, as a foreigner, would my input on the matter be at all helpful?”

Prince Florian’s bright eyes shone from where he stood, a small gentle smile on his lips as he waited for permission to enter the conversation. Jafar’s grip on his staff tightened. He did not need this. Any political opinions Florian had shared tended to consist of easing control over the people, or about decreasing taxes. Opinions Jafar could see Jasmine probably agreeing with, which was troublesome to think about. 

“Actually, yes, Prince Florian. I would welcome a fresh look on the matter,” said Hamed, gesturing for Florian to approach. 

Florian’s smile widened as he strode up to the two, stepping in between them to look at the map spread out on the table. Jafar’s jaw clenched but he held his tongue. 

Hamed explained their situation as he pointed to the map, showing Florian the Agrabah port and where their security patrol ships sailed. Florian nodded, keeping up.

“Ah yes,” he said, “that’s where we made contact with your security so we could state our intentions. They seemed… well, not unpleasant, but obviously not excited to see us.” He chuckled lightly. “I suppose you’ve received more than a fair share of princes.”

“Unfortunately,” Hamed agreed. 

“If I may ask, how long has Princess Jasmine been seeing suitors?”

“Too long.”

“Hmm,” Florian hummed to himself, his brow furrowed slightly. “Does she ever consult in affairs like this?”

“No,” said Jafar. “It is not part of her royal duties.”

Hamed lifted his chin and added, “But she does show interest in statecraft. I’ve considered letting her into our council meetings before.”

“Something never done in our country’s history,” Jafar reminded him. 

Florian had been eyeing the map of the harbor as the other two men discussed Jasmine. 

“I’m sure her familiarity with the subject will make her a fitting companion for whoever shall inherit the throne, your majesty,” he said, then pointed at the security route. “May I?”

Hamed gestured with his hand for him to continue. Jafar gripped his staff, and waited for whatever foolish idea the naive boy would bring to the table.

“As a foreigner, I must admit I found your security protocols rather lax.”

Jafar blinked.

“In Germany, on our borders with the seas, we keep at least triple the amount of ships. England is very close, you see, and they have an impressive navy. We’re at peace with them currently, of course, but should they ever decide to change that, we’re prepared to protect our borders by land and sea. Here in Agrabah, as a port kingdom, you are in a very vulnerable position.”

Jafar had to be losing his hearing. But Florian continued.

“I mean no critique on your relations with other nations. You are welcoming and warm and, frankly, that is hard to come by in these times. But, for example, if you say this nearby kingdom, uh,” he pointed at the map, “Shirabad were to ever attack, your defenses guarding your borders would not be enough. They would be able to invade without much stopping them. The city itself has impressive defenses, but the open desert and waters are troubling.”

Florian flashed that sweet, bright smile as he looked between the two men. Jafar was staring back at him with his jaw slack and his grip on his staff no longer so tight. 

Hamed spoke first, “That is some fascinating insight, Prince Florian. Well put, my boy.”

_ ‘Well put, my boy _,’ the words echoed in Jafar’s ears. Florian beamed at the praise and Jafar could feel himself shrink beside him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to throttle Florian or kiss him. Judging by how the Sultan was now going on about adding another larger ship to the security patrol - words that Jafar could barely take in due to the surrealness of the situation - the latter was becoming rather favorable. On the one hand, Jafar was furious. He and Hamed had argued over this for months, and Jafar had pointed out the exact problems Florian just had in fewer words. In only a couple minutes the boy had managed to change the Sultan’s mind with the same facts Jafar had spent hours trying to explain the importance of. 

However, he was also… relieved? Hamed _ listened _ to Florian. He was going to do what Jafar wanted him to, with no _ persuasion _ necessary (something Jafar had considered resorting to if this particular argument didn’t go in his favor again). 

Jafar smoothed out his expression as his attention to his own thoughts relaxed and he focused on the conversation at hand. Once in a while, he would glance over at Florian and think, _ Finally _.

Once again, Prince Adam found himself rather bored. Usually when that happened, he did one of two things: either he would go exploring the palace or he would find Jafar. Knowing the latter wasn’t an option, he once again found himself wandering aimlessly around the palace. 

Occasionally he would run into guards, but they rarely told him if a place were off limits. They mostly were either walking around themselves or guarding certain doors or corridors. 

Today Adam had decided to revisit the section of the palace that led to the secret chamber Jafar had brought him the first time they had been intimate. He strode down the hallway, which was as empty as it had been last week, eyeing the curtain hiding the secret passage as he passed it. He smirked and shook his head as he carried on. 

He had never gone this far before, but like the familiar hallway, most of this wing of the palace seemed to be empty. That is, until he turned a corner and came face-to-face with two dozen guards lining either side of the hall. Adam stopped in his tracks as every pair of eyes turned to him.

“Oh,” he mumbled. “There’s a lot of you.”

The guard closest to him gave him a quick once-over, then asked, “Are you lost?”

“Uh, yes. Just taking a look around. Where does this corridor lead to?”

“The only rooms down this way are the Princess Jasmine’s chambers,” said the guard. 

“Oh.” Adam stared down the long hall, where he noticed a single turn to the right. Princess Jasmine was down that way, somewhere. The one person who could send him home, to relieve Adam of his father’s ambitious desires, this country, and the Vizier. A strange pang pierced his chest, its source unknown. “How do I get to the Vizier’s study from here?”

“Back the way you came, then take the staircase on your left, two rights, then another set of stairs, then straight down, then another set of ascending stairs.”

Adam nodded in thanks, then returned back down the mostly empty hallway.

But he didn’t go up the staircase on his left; instead, he kept going straight. He knew where he was now and the gorgeous palace gardens were calling to him. It had become his second favorite spot in the palace and a good place to clear his mind. As he spotted the greenery and flowers, a comfortable warmth and peace bloomed inside him. The pang in his chest from earlier was already a distant memory as he entered the garden. 

He stopped short at a flash of red among the green. Dammit, of course _ he _ had to be here now. But as Jafar emerged from behind the fountain, Adam noticed he was not alone; Prince Florian was walking beside him. Deep in conversation over something Adam couldn’t tell from where he stood, neither noticed him. 

Realizing this, Adam jumped behind the nearest flower bush, stashing himself out of sight as they drew closer. He stilled himself as much as he could and tried to listen in.

“...favorable for the Sultan.”

“I wouldn’t know about that. Usually my brother is a much better politician than I am.”

“I disagree, young prince. I think you will do quite well.”

Adam frowned. Was Jafar _ complimenting _ Florian? No, no, Adam was just lost in the context. Jafar wouldn’t-

“In fact, I think you could be exactly what this kingdom needs.”

_ What the hell? _Adam mouthed to himself.

“Oh,” Florian replied bashfully, “That means a lot to me coming from you, Royal Vizier. You’re a very intelligent man. The Sultan is lucky to have you by his side.”

“Perhaps, if things work out, I could be by your side someday.”

Adam’s nails dug into the skin of his palms. His mind raced with a hundred fuming questions. _ What the hell is going on? What game are you playing with him? _

“I would like that very much. But it is up to Princess Jasmine.”

“Of course.”

The comforting warmth the palace gardens had brought to Adam had vanished over the course of every biting word he heard, and had risen to a white hot anger that burned at Adam’s core. Every inch of him held himself back from popping out of the bushes to demand an explanation. 

“Though, I do wonder about Prince Adam,” said Florian. 

There was a significant pause before Jafar replied, “What about him?”

“Well,” Florian softly laughed, “I do hear the French are the best lovers in Europe. Once the princess is feeling well, I have no doubt he will be able to sweep her off her feet. I’ve studied politics plenty, but there is no right way to study how to make a princess fall in love with you.”

Jafar gave a not-so-subtle huff.

“Trust me, Princess Jasmine will hardly look twice at him. There’s nothing he could possibly offer her besides a pretty face.”

“_ What? _” Adam whispered, eyes wide. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

There was another pause, longer this time and for a moment Adam thought he’d been made, when Florian spoke again.

“Still, I won’t underestimate him. He spoke quite passionately the other night at dinner about educational policies. Even you seemed impressed, despite…” Florian trailed off, searching for the right words. Finding them quickly, he continued, “Despite your dislike for each other.”

Adam smirked. He _ had _ grabbed some positive attention the other night. Even the Sultan liked what he had said. 

“Prince Adam and I have… put aside our differences. We might not agree with each other, but he is a guest of the Agrabah court and despite my _ dislike _ , as you put it, it is only beneficial to at least be civil with one another. However,” Jafar lowered his voice to the point Adam could barely hear him, “he is _ hardly _ the princess’ type. Unlike the smart, strapping young man you are.”

Adam was certain for a moment he saw red, his jaw clenching so tight, he was sure to break his own teeth. His face burned as he shook with fury behind the rose bush. He shouldn’t rise, he shouldn’t- But he could not hold in his emotions any longer. He stood, mouth open, ready to tear into Jafar’s words, maybe tear into Florian’s throat.

But as he rose to his full height, he realized the two had left, the corner of Jafar’s black and gold cape slipping behind a pillar as they exited the garden. 

Adam glared at the empty space occupied only moments ago, his shoulders heaving and his hands shaking. He waited ten seconds, then sped off towards his guest suite. 

Arriving at the heavy double doors, he threw them open as best he could then stormed inside. He bounded over to the bed, ignoring Lumiere’s pleasant greeting, and snatched up a pillow; he shoved his face into the soft cushion and finally let out a muffled scream.

“Master, shouldn’t you be dressing for dinner?”

“I’m not hungry, Lumiere,” Adam grumbled from where he sat on the balcony. 

“Sire-”

“I said I’m not hungry, Lumiere. Now why don’t you take Plumette on a night out on the town? Go walk on the beach or whatever it is you two do together.” 

Adam had been like this all afternoon, just… sulking. Lumiere never quite knew what to do when his prince got like this. Usually the staff just gave him his space and he would eventually come around. But seeing Adam burst through the chamber doors earlier, seeing him push over tables and chairs and anything else he could get his hands on always unnerved him. 

Adam had a temper that rivaled his father’s, and while Adam never took his anger out on the people around him it would still be unpleasant to witness. And god help whatever decor got in his way. It had been a while since Lumiere had seen Adam this angry. Last time had been the night before they had departed for Agrabah, but even then Adam hadn’t made nearly as much of a mess. 

After he had taken his frustrations out on the room, Adam had righted a single chair, set it on the balcony, then collapsed into it. And there he remained, likely feeling sorry for himself or whatever had gotten him riled up in the first place. Lumiere’s guess was that it was somehow related to the Royal Vizier.

Ever since their arrival, those two had been at each other’s throats. Lumiere knew not to say anything, but he worried about either of the two crossing a line and exchanging threats with real consequences. He only hoped that that line hadn’t been crossed today. 

“Are you sure that is wise?”

“Yes,” said Adam tiredly, “I want you two to go out for the night. I will not be requiring your service any more for the evening.”

“Very good, sire. Will you be turning in early?”

Adam gave a weak shrug. 

“Perhaps. I’d rather not be disturbed at any point though.”

“Yes, sire.” Lumiere bowed his head, then smiled and offered to Plumette to take his hand. “Have a good night, my prince.”

“Goodnight, you two,” Adam replied dully as they headed out.

Lumiere sighed as they walked down the corridor, turning back over his shoulder to the closed doors. Plumette gently led him on.

“C’mon, my love. He will be alright. You know how he is,” she said.

“I know, which is why I worry. You don’t think he and the Vizier exchanged unpleasantries again? That man knows how to get under the master’s skin.”

Plumette giggled, then said with a cheeky grin, “Oh, I’m sure he knows how to get under _ something _ with the master.”

Lumiere paused in his step.

“What do you mean?” he whispered. 

Plumette cocked her head and raised an eyebrow. 

“You haven’t considered it? Oh my darling, you are not nearly as observant as you think.”

Like a struck match, it dawned on Lumiere in an instant; his eyes widened and he lowered his voice even more. “I’ve considered he’d been with someone, but _ him? _ You think they’re…?”

“Of course. Who else around here has gotten our prince so flustered?”

“You think he’s flustered?”

“What else could be going on there? Now, come, mon cheri, let us go walk along the water like you promised me we would.”

Adam wasn’t sure when he had fallen asleep. It hadn’t been long after Lumiere and Plumette left, but the sun had completely gone down since, so upon a sudden awakening, he could only guess hours.

What had woken him up was a familiar knocking on the chamber doors. He groaned and got to his feet, wobbling on his legs slightly as he stumbled to the door and pulled one open. Seeing Jafar on the other side brought back the memory of last week when Jafar had awoken him from sleep. The only difference was that the sight of him now reignited Adam’s anger from earlier.

“What?” he snapped.

“You were missed at dinner,” Jafar replied.

“I wasn’t hungry.”

Jafar eyed what he could see of Adam through the crack in the door.

“What do you want, _ Vizier _?” Adam sneered at the title. But Jafar kept his natural cool composure.

“May I come in?”

“No.”

“You look like shit. Is that the newest hairstyle from France?”

Adam self-consciously brought a hand up to smooth down where his hair had come loose from the ponytail during his rage. 

“You’re a piece of work, you know that?” said Adam.

“Are you going to let me in or not?”

Adam rolled his eyes and stepped aside, allowing Jafar into the suite. Jafar closed the door behind himself as Adam put some space between them. 

Jafar’s gaze flickered to the victims of Adam’s earlier tantrum.

“Did a storm blow through here?” he asked dryly. 

“Redecorating.”

“I wouldn’t try taking up interior design, young prince.”

“Why is my missing one dinner such a big deal?” said Adam, pulling the ribbon from his hair and throwing it over a settee that lay on its side, eager to change the subject.

“I thought you were trying to impress the Sultan. Missing an opportunity to dine with him-”

“What’s the point?” Adam shrugged, crossing his arms. “Florian already has the Sultan’s respect, he’s likely going to win the heart of the princess… and he’s already got the vizier wrapped around his finger.”

“You should not eavesdrop, Prince Adam, it is very unbecoming.”

“Says the man who has his pet bird spy on everyone.”

Jafar ignored the jab. “I know you were behind those bushes.”

“So you made your stance perfectly clear. Why come here? To make sure I got the message?”

“And what message would that be?”

“That you’re finished with me. You’ve got a shinier, younger new toy. Oh, but this one you’re championing to be the next Sultan!” Adam stared Jafar down, waiting for him to make the next move. Jafar said nothing, drawing the moment out. 

Then, finally, a smug smile spread across his face.

“Why, Prince Adam, are you _ jealous? _”

Adam’s hands balled into fists. 

“I don’t like feeling tossed aside.”

“Why?” Jafar stepped towards him. “Because Florian has better leadership potential? Because he could be precisely what this kingdom needs?”

“Since when have you considered any of the visiting princes worthy of your precious Agrabah? You’ve never even considered helping me. In fact, I’m quite certain all you’ve done is dirty my reputation in the Sultan’s eyes.”

“You were the one who wanted to go back to France.”

“Well, maybe that’s changed!” 

Adam’s words hung in the air for a moment. His cheeks burned at any implications that could have unintentionally brought. “It has nothing to do with _ you _, if that’s what you think,” he added quickly. “Agrabah has grown on me.”

“I am not so vain as to believe you would change your mind because of a few orgasms.”

“Oh, _ fuck you _.”

“Grow up!”

Adam was suddenly aware just how backed into a corner he was, trapped between Jafar’s looming figure and the wall he had been leaning against. Excitement buzzed in his chest. _ No. _ He was pissed and he was going to stay pissed, no matter what Jafar was doing.

“G-get away from me,” he stuttered, flattening himself against the wall.

Jafar narrowed his eyes.

“Are you afraid of me?”

“No.”

“Admit it, then.”

“Admit what?”

“You’re jealous of Florian.”

“What’s to be jealous of? I don’t want any of this anyway!”

“You want my approval.”

“Your _ approval _ isn’t what will earn me the princess’ hand in marriage! I don’t care if you are cheering Florian on. However, it is rather greedy of you to let him manipulate you like that.”

Jafar’s brow furrowed. “What are you talking about? You genuinely think I’m sleeping with him?”

“I don’t know! You two seemed pretty close in the gardens.”

“You do realize I was only flirting with him to toy with _ you _.”

Adam froze, his cheeks warm. Had he misconstrued the situation?

“O-of course I knew that!” he stuttered. “As is your support-?”

“No, that is real.”

“Oh… What!? Why?”

“Because he shows great political _ potential _.” There was a heaviness to that final word that only made Adam once again curious about who Jafar was, what side of himself did he hide from the world. There was something in those shadows, something delicious and dangerous. But Jafar revealed no more of whatever plans he had for Florian. 

Which only left Adam another, colder thought: Jafar had no plans for Adam. Nothing beyond short term anyway. He was so convinced Jasmine would reject Adam, there was no future to plan for. Adam wasn’t sure why that bothered him.

“I’m sure Florian would make a fine bedfellow, figuratively speaking,” he sneered.

Jafar took another step closer.

“It really bothers you, doesn’t it?” he said. “The possibility of me taking Florian to bed _ bothers _you.”

“Your bed is yours to share with whoever you choose. It’s none of my-”

“But I haven’t shared a bed with you yet. Afraid that I’d sooner share one with Florian? Or is it the time spent outside the bedroom that vexes you so?”

Adam closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. He could feel Jafar’s body heat as he pressed closer to him. He nearly melted against him, his hands flying to the metal on Jafar’s chest, his fingers digging in around the plate. Finally, he opened his eyes to find Jafar staring back at him.

“You’re a sadist,” said Adam, the corner of his mouth quirking up. “Today has just been a sick little game to you. Tooling with me.”

“You’re annoying when you’re jealous.”

“I think you like it when I’m annoying.”

“It bothers you that I enjoy spending time with another visiting prince.”

“Yes.”

Jafar grabbed Adam by the chin, tilting his head slightly.

“Did my words to him in the garden make your blood boil?” he said. “Did you want to knock out his teeth then fuck me right over the fountain to remind me that you’re the only prince I can touch?”

Adam shivered. He hadn’t imagined that exact scenario, but god help him, the emotion behind it was accurate.

“_ Yes _,” he rasped.

Jafar smirked again. 

“Do you honestly think I’d ever touch him when I have _ you _around?”

“And when I’m not around?”

Jafar leaned in, not quite brushing his lips against Adam’s.

“It would be interesting to try and corrupt him,” he whispered, “but that boy is far too loyal. If he married Jasmine, he would never betray her like that.”

“I would,” Adam whispered back.

“Would you?”

“For you, because I know you’d be worth it. No princess could ever compare-”

Jafar cut him off with a firm, chaste kiss that he broke off quickly.

“Don’t tell the Sultan that, or else you’ll never make it to Jasmine’s marriage bed.”

“I’d prefer the Royal Vizier’s bed,” said Adam with a smirk.

“For now yours will have to do.”

Adam blinked, pulling his head back.

“What?”

Jafar’s intense gaze flickered between Adam’s lips and his eyes.

“Your bed. I want you in it,” he breathed. “I want you inside of me. I want you to give me a reason to keep only _ you _ in my bed. I want you to see me.”

Adam was stunned for a moment. 

“Really?” he asked. 

“Yes. Now get on the bed.”

Jafar stepped back to give him room; Adam turned, walking backwards a few steps, his gaze locked with Jafar’s. He stopped when the backs of his knees hit the bed.

Adam raised a hand and began untying his cravat. Those dark eyes watched as his hands tossed the cloth aside then jumped to the buttons on his waistcoat, which too was discarded to the side. Jafar stayed fully clothed as Adam removed layer after layer until he was standing completely naked before him.

“On the bed,” Jafar repeated, not moving a muscle.

Adam smirked and crawled on top of the covers. He wiggled his ass a bit to give him a little show, then turned to face him, sitting back on his knees with his feet tucked under him.

“Your turn,” he said.

The first thing to go was the staff, which was carefully set aside, then his turban. Then the metal and the shoulder guards. Adam thought_ he _ wore a lot of layers. Sometime after the cape had been neatly put aside, Jafar’s movements grew hurried, fingers fumbling for his sash, the dagger he usually kept at his waist dropped unceremoniously to the floor. His shoes unintentionally knocked into Adam’s own where they lay. Jafar’s undressing only slowed when he reached the final layers of his tunic and trousers. 

Adam waited. 

Jafar brought his arms up to grab his tunic from the back and pull it over his head. He tossed the black cloth to the floor. Jafar was fit, with an athletic build and subtle dark hair sprinkled over his chest. While his body was breathtaking, Adam also saw why Jafar hid it so.

He could see the scars - four lines of a lighter pigment. One that curved over his left shoulder, two along his right side, and one larger horizontal scar across his abdomen. A knife wound?

“So many…” Adam muttered.

“I used to be in the military,” Jafar said, as if that explained it all. Adam could believe it; it certainly accounted for the way Jafar held himself, how focused he could be, and the unnecessary armor on his everyday clothes.

“Turn around.”

Jafar hesitated, then complied. Adam swallowed thickly, forgetting to breathe briefly, as Jafar showed his back to him. If his front was proof Jafar had been a soldier once, his back told another story. There were more of the long lines, more than Adam could count from where he sat. Some crossed over each other, others appeared much fainter. A disarray of flesh that Adam could accurately guess was the work of a whip; though_ that _ one on his right shoulder blade was left by a flogger. 

“Don’t ask,” said Jafar, as if he could read Adam’s mind. He turned to face Adam again.

Adam’s hand clenched where it rested on his knee. Being around servants who dressed and undressed him every day made it easier to deal with people seeing his own scars. It was something he had lived with since he was a child. Wherever Jafar had gotten his scars… he wasn’t used to others seeing them. Adam didn’t blame him for his hesitation to do this. 

“Then I won’t tell you about mine,” he said, his voice not nearly sounding as aloof as intended. 

“I don’t care.” It was a lie. Jafar was good at lying, but he purposefully made that statement sound fake. He did want to know and he would ask sometime. And Adam wasn’t so sure he’d deny him the truth. 

Without another word, Jafar removed his pants, and took out his vial of lube from the pocket; he kicked the pants aside, then approached the bed. He set the vial on the table beside the bed, then crawled on top. He mirrored Adam’s stance and waited.

Adam raised a hand and reached out, his fingers brushing against Jafar’s skin. Feeling braver, he ran a finger over the scar on Jafar’s shoulder, his palm flattening as he brought his hand down his chest. He leaned forward and kissed where his hand had been.

Jafar sighed and chuckled.

“You’re not going to make love to me, are you?” he asked. “You’re not going to be soft with me just because you’ve seen me?”

Adam raised his head and placed a gentle kiss to his lips. 

“Hell no.”

“Good.”

Jafar leaned in, meeting Adam halfway in a sloppy kiss that was more rough tangle of tongue and lips than anything possibly chaste. Adam moaned as Jafar explored his mouth. Jafar broke it off with a loud, wet smack; he stuck his index finger under Adam’s chin, taking in every detail of his face before pressing in again. 

Adam ran his hands up Jafar’s well-defined arms and came to a rest on his shoulders; he leaned back, taking Jafar with him without breaking the kiss. Adam landed back onto the pillows. Jafar propped himself up on one hand beside Adam’s head, and with the other he rested on his hip, gripping the flesh there for a moment before moving inward. Adam whined into his mouth as Jafar wrapped his hand around his cock, giving it a few lazy strokes. 

“I thought_ I _was going to be in control tonight,” Adam said, squirming slightly under Jafar’s touch, eager for more friction. 

Jafar blinked, then let Adam’s cock fall to his stomach as he pulled his hand back.

“Don’t try to twist my words, young prince. I said I wanted you inside of me. I didn’t say anything about you being in control.”

Adam sat up, pouting. 

“I get to be on top,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Fine. Now come here.” Jafar hooked a hand around the back of Adam’s head, bringing him in for another kiss. Adam complied with no fuss. He could pout and whine all he wanted, but they both knew that he loved Jafar ordering him about during sex. He liked giving up that control, as long as he got his reward.

Adam fell back against the cushions as Jafar dove in to nip and lick at his neck, slightly sucking on the pulse point before soothing it with his tongue. He ran his hands up Adam’s arms, pressing them into the bed; he paused at Adam’s wrists and tightened his grip. Jafar bowed his head as he left a messy trail of biting kisses down along Adam’s collarbone until he reached his left nipple. He nipped at the bud, then lathered it with his tongue. Adam squirmed in his grip; Jafar only relented briefly so he could do the same to the other one. 

Jafar continued his path downward, releasing Adam’s wrists but leaving a splayed hand on his chest to keep him in place as he worked his mouth over Adam’s body. He paused briefly at Adam’s left side - Adam could only guess it was because of the faint burn scar there - before pressing a kiss there and moving on to his hips. Adam gasped and spread his legs, giving Jafar easier access to him. But Jafar avoided his cock and balls and nipped at the soft skin of Adam’s inner thighs. 

“Come on,” Adam whined, bucking his hips. 

Jafar let out an amused “Hmph,” then pulled back completely to admire his work. To admire Adam with his flushed face, his legs spread and his arms still where they had been pinned to the mattress. 

Adam watched him as he looked, allowing himself some appreciation of the other as well. _ Fuck, _ Jafar was gorgeous… 

Jafar’s breathing was heavier, his eyes darker, his impressive cock standing to attention. Jafar was idly touching Adam’s ankle, rubbing the tips of his fingers gently against the skin. It was almost sweet if not for the sheer lust radiating off him. 

“How do you want me?” Jafar asked, the hand that had been touching Adam’s ankle fully tightening around it. “On the edge of the bed? On my back?”

Adam’s mouth watered. How the hell did he get so lucky?

“On your hands and knees, Vizier.”

Jafar stilled for a moment. Then, he nodded once, letting Adam go so he could move up beside him. Adam smirked and sat up, quickly crawling over Jafar to get to where he had left the vial of lube. 

“Ow- Adam-” 

“You should have left it on the other side,” Adam laughed as he snatched up the bottle and wormed back to the foot of the bed. “We’re running low on this again.”

“Well, don’t start _ using less _ to make it last longer. I’ll pick up more tomorrow.”

Adam managed to get the last of the lube into the palm of his hand as he replied, “Just because you were the first to fuck my ass doesn’t mean I was a virgin. I know what I’m doing.”

Jafar huffed, watching him with a wary eye.

“Time you proved that, princeling,” he said, more as a challenge than anything. Adam looked up at him from under his lashes. He held his gaze for a moment, then placed the mostly empty vial on the nearest nightstand. 

“On your knees, Jafar,” he finally said, his voice steady and low.

The corner of Jafar’s mouth twitched.

“Did you forget who is in charge here?”

“This is a coup,” he said playfully. “Besides, if that were true, you would not have asked me to pick what position I get to take you. Now get on your knees.”

Jafar smiled ever-so-slightly, then turned around. He spread his legs and arched his back to give Adam a better vantage. Adam swallowed thickly, his cock twitching. 

“Fuck, I’ve wanted this,” he breathed. He placed his free hand on Jafar’s left buttock, squeezing the flesh there. His hand traveled up, his index and middle fingers ghosting over the scars. The muscles in Jafar’s back tensed. Adam paused. “Are you sure like this is alright?” he asked.

Jafar sighed.

“Are you just going to breathe on my backside or are you going to fuck me _ this century? _” he sneered. Taking that as a yes, Adam smirked and spooned out lube from his palm onto his fingers. 

Slowly, he inserted a single digit into Jafar’s entrance. Jafar’s body froze for a second as he tried to relax against the invasion. Adam worked his index finger in and out, then inserted his middle and did the same as he worked Jafar open for him. 

Jafar focused on his breathing as Adam thrust his fingers into him. It had been a long time since Jafar had let anyone fuck him like this and frankly reliquishing this role to Adam was not easy. He hadn’t knocked on Adam’s door with any intent on having the night go in this direction, but getting Adam so worked up over Florian had gone far better than he had expected. 

He had only intended to rile Adam’s jealousy just enough to make their next encounter the more exciting, but Adam had been shaken today. Jafar guessed that it must be an insecurity of his, and he had pressed into that soft spot and left a deep bruise. 

Adam had been at odds against Florian before he had even met the man, and yet what had bothered him the most was the possibility of Jafar casually tossing him aside for this younger, more accomplished prince. From a political standpoint, this wasn’t right. Jafar should not be the one caught between these two princes, that was Jasmine. The chance of Florian being able to win Jasmine’s affections should be what bothered Adam the most. The chance of Florian becoming the next Sultan instead of him. 

Not… this. This was just supposed to rile him up a little bit. 

But then Jafar had knocked on his door and found the room a mess. So he asked, and he pushed. And he decided he wanted _ this _. He wanted to give Adam something. Just a hint of power in bed to reward him for amusing Jafar with his jealous antics… But this was more than just a hint. They both knew it, but Jafar didn’t want to talk about it and Adam was not interested in dissecting their situation either. Not when Jafar was being this open with him. 

And he _ was _ being open, vulnerable. Stupid. Jafar shook his head slightly and tried to push down any thoughts about Adam’s reaction to his scars, nor about how eager Jafar was to spread his legs like this. Such thoughts left him dizzy and if he didn’t push them aside he was sure he’d stop this right now. He didn’t want to stop this. He wanted this, he _ needed _ it.

Adam pushed his hard cock into him, slowly at first, allowing Jafar to adjust to him. A strangled noise escaped Adam’s throat that sent an involuntary tremor through Jafar. He pushed back, eager for Adam to bottom out, which he did, then he slowly pulled out halfway. He pushed in again.

Jafar cursed under his breath. 

Adam gripped his hips as he set a steady rhythm with long, intense strokes that brushed Jafar’s prostate in _ just _ the right spot that made his pulse race and his skin feel too tight. Alright, now he understood why Adam was used to being on top. 

Jafar fisted the sheets under him, his back starting to feel stiff. He groaned, rolling his shoulders. Noticing his discomfort, Adam’s hands jump from his hips to the nap of his neck. Deft fingers massaged the base along where his spine met his skull. Jafar bit back the urge to moan. 

“You’re so beautiful,” said Adam, one hand pressing comfortably into Jafar’s spine while the other wandered down the open area of his back. Jafar could feel the pads of his fingers trace over his scars, one after the other. 

“That’s not what this is!” Jafar spat, pushing his ass back against Adam’s cock. 

Adam didn’t argue, his hands returning to Jafar’s hips as he started thrusting faster, harder. The sound of skin hitting skin echoed in the room.

“Is this what you wanted?” he grit out. Jafar once again felt a hand on the back of his neck, but this time it pushed his face downward until it met the pillow. Jafar’s legs spread just a little wider, his ass in the air as Adam pounded into him, the new angle knocking the breath out of him. 

Something inside of Jafar wanted to rebel against this vulnerable position. It was too much, he couldn’t- But_ needed _...

“Yes,” he said, his face turned to the side as he tried to see over his shoulder. Adam’s long hair hung in his face, his teeth bared, the vein in his forehead prominent. He looked like an absolute mess. He couldn’t help himself. “Did what I said to Florian make you jealous?”

Adam’s lips pulled back just a hint more in a snarl.

“Don’t you_ ever _talk about him while we’re in bed,” he growled, the graveling of his voice going straight to Jafar’s untouched cock. There was a potential feeling of humiliation from coming on Adam’s cock alone, but he was too proud to beg for his hand. Fuck, he could feel the precum sticking to his stomach…

“He’s nothing,” Adam continued, “you think that snow white virgin would know how to take someone like you to bed? He wouldn’t know where to _ start! _You think he’d fuck you as good as I’m fucking you?”

“No, he wouldn’t… Fucking brat...”

Adam’s thrusts were getting shorter, sporadic. He was so close, Jafar could sense it. 

“Don’t you fucking finish inside of me,” Jafar snarled. Adam chuckled. 

“As you wish.”

With that, Adam finally wrapped his hand around Jafar’s cock and began roughly stroking it in time with his desperate thrusts. “Fucking come, you bastard,” he hissed into Jafar’s ear. 

In that moment, Jafar’s natural instinct to defy him seemed to vanish into the ether as he came sudden and hard into Adam’s hand and onto the bed sheets. He emitted a guttural shout as his body shuddered with every wave, stars blooming across his vision. 

He hadn’t even noticed Adam pull out until he felt Adam’s hot, wet cum land on his back; Adam whimpered a string of “Yes” and “Oui, merde.” He collapsed on the bed beside Jafar as they both caught their breath.

Jafar’s body slowly flattened against the mattress, his body humming with the afterglow. He allowed himself to open his eyes, unsurprised to find Adam staring back at him, his own breathing heavy, his cheeks a bright pink. 

The world around them seemed to fall into a haze. Jafar slowly blinked once. Adam was gone from his view, but he could feel a warm cloth on his back, cleaning the mess left there. He blinked again. His view had switched to the canopy above the bed, decorated like the night sky - bright speckles in a dark blue. He blinked a third time and found he was on his side again, this time with something else warm at his back, only it wasn’t a cloth. The haze faded as Jafar realized Adam was pressed against him, his face buried into his neck, and with an arm thrown over his waist. 

Adam’s soft breath tickled Jafar’s skin, though not unpleasantly. The covers had been pulled over their spooning legs. Jafar shifted his right foot between Adam’s ankles. 

His chest tightened as he swallowed down any thoughts, any feelings about how intimate this was. It didn’t matter. Adam shifted in his sleep, the arm draped over Jafar sliding up his chest and coming to rest there. None of this mattered. 

Jafar stared out at the sky as the stars disappeared and dark blue faded into the orange and light blue of dawn. He hadn’t meant to stay the night, but he had fallen asleep and awoke just minutes ago, still wrapped up in Adam’s arms. 

He stood, leaning against the threshold where the room met the balcony; here he could get a good view of the sky, and of Adam, who was still fast asleep.

He watched the prince’s chest rise and fall with every soft breath he took. That long blond hair fell in and around his face, a few strands sticking up in awkward angles. Truly, Adam’s beauty was nothing to be scoffed at. Unable to resist, Jafar closed the space between the threshold and the bed; he sat on the edge and gently brushed a lock out of that beautiful face. Better.

Something churned in Jafar’s stomach. 

Had what happened last night actually happened? Yes. On the surface, it was no different than any other sexual encounter they’d had. But something had changed. Jafar could not decipher what exactly, but he could feel it. Perhaps it was the level of trust he’d granted Adam. He was so vulnerable last night… so weak. How could this petty little prince get so under Jafar’s skin that he’d allow himself to be degraded like that? And yet, every detail he recalled sent a thrilling hum through every fibre of his being. This was getting foolish, he decided. 

Jafar left Adam’s side and began picking up his various pieces of clothing that lay strewn about the room.

Adam was still asleep when Jafar left and returned to his own chambers. Upon arriving, he said his prayers, quickly bathed, fed Iago, then changed into fresh robes. 

He realized he was almost late as he adjusted the metal plating on his chest. Damn. He was going to have to cover for Adam again should the brat not show for breakfast. 

He inwardly sighed at the prospect as he made his way towards the dining hall. 

“Jafar.”

Jafar paused briefly as he spotted Hamed and Hakim standing in the hallway ahead of him. He quickened his step to catch up to them. 

“I was about to send for you,” said Hamed, his eyes glistening slightly in the morning light.

Jafar straightened his posture. Something had happened.

The castle was so cold during the winter. More than once Adam suspected the architects purposefully built the structure in a way that kept the biting frozen winds inside instead of out. Perhaps they loathed their masters. 

He wasn’t quite sure why he had gotten out of bed, and his journey from the west wing to the ground level he could only register as the walls around him in flickering images, the cold stone under his bare feet. One moment he would be at the top of the stairs, and the next at the very bottom and turning a corner. Then, as quick as a flash, he was standing at the open doors of the ballroom. 

What had woken him in the middle of the night and drawn him here? 

Flash. Adam shivered as he stood at the center of the ballroom, his arms wrapped around himself, his breath showing in soft cloud bursts on every exhale. His nightgown was gone - had he been wearing it at all? - and his skin was covered in goosebumps from the cold.

“My prince,” came a voice. Adam knew that voice. He glanced around him. 

“Jafar?” 

But there was no sign of the vizier. Not in the open, moonlit center of the ballroom, and not in the shadowed areas around the sides of the grand room. 

“Jafar!?” Adam called again, his voice echoing. 

“Useless boy.” 

Adam’s eyes widened as he spun around, sure he had just heard his father in the doorway. But there was no one there. Adam shivered again. 

He was alone. And cold, so very cold… 

Flash. The great doors that led outside began to rattle, the door handle jiggling slightly, as if someone was trying to open it from the other side. Adam dug his fingernails into the flesh of his upper arms. There was no other sound; no wind, nothing but the rattling… Until it abruptly stopped. 

Adam opened his mouth to call out to Jafar again. Where was he? 

He watched in horror as the door handle crackled as a thin sheet of frost swept over the shining metal, crawling through the crack of the door, grasping its way inside the ballroom. 

Adam could do nothing but watch as the floor slowly began to ice over. Creeping tendrils of frost etched towards his feet, finally freezing the floor under him. The loud crunching of the stone freezing over echoed against the walls. 

He whimpered, tears welling in his eyes. The cold under his feet was almost painful and yet he couldn’t force himself to move. He feared if he did, then the cold would know and would swallow him up too. 

“My prince.”

There was that voice again - Jafar’s voice. Adam opened his misty eyes and glanced around again, and again he saw nobody.

“Jafar?”

“You’ll catch your death if you stay there,” said Jafar calmly. 

“Where are you?” Adam could hear the fear in his own voice, but he didn’t care. 

“Come along.” Just then, the iced over windows swung open to reveal Jafar standing there, dressed in black and gold robes. He lifted a hand, offering. 

Adam felt relief swell in his chest. “Jafar-”

“Stupid, lazy, useless boy!” came the other voice, once again from the double doors leading back into the castle. The pleasant warmth in his chest faded as Adam turned to see his father, adorned in his big black wig, cane in hand, that familiar scowl on his face. “Foolish boy, can’t even win the heart of a princess,” he sneered. “Has to find comfort in the bed of a thing like_ him _.”

“Shut up…” Adam whimpered.

“My prince,” said Jafar, a balm to the fear that Adam’s father drew.

Adam turned away from the old man and reached out a hand. He tried to move his legs, but he was so damn cold. He was freezing to the spot.

“Jafar- Jafar, please help!” he yelped in a panic. 

“Hurry, my prince,” said Jafar, his voice still calm. 

Flash. Adam was so much closer now, but not enough for them to touch. He reached and reached, the tips of their fingers almost brushing… His eyes widened in shock as he realized he could see right through Jafar.

Jafar was fading and he was freezing to death and there was nothing he could do about it. 

“I can’t move… It’s too cold… Jafar…!” 

“Hurry.”

“I’m trying!” Adam whined, tears freezing before they made it halfway down his cheeks. He cursed to himself as his limbs became impossible to move. He opened his mouth to scream, but nothing came out.

“_ Hurry! _” 

Adam’s eyes snapped open as he nearly jumped out of bed. His chest heaved as he took in the guest suite, the heat of Agrabah as the sun poured in through the balcony, and of Lumiere, who was standing beside the bed, looking rather startled by Adam’s sudden awakening. 

Sweat was beaded on Adam’s forehead; he was still very naked from the night before and Jafar was nowhere to be seen. He took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair.

“What is it, Lumiere?” he asked after catching his breath. 

“You missed breakfast, sire.”

“Oh.”

“And one more thing.”

“Yes?” Adam rubbed his eyes, grateful that his nightmare was already fading from memory.

“Princess Jasmine has been deemed by the royal doctor as well enough to lift her quarantine and receive guests.”

Adam slowly turned to look up at him, wide-eyed, his jaw slack. 

“Wh… what? The Princess will see me now?”

“This afternoon, actually. The Sultan wants you and Prince Florian to meet her together.”

“Oh... _ avale mes couilles _.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation(s):  
mon cheri - "my darling/sweetheart/my dear"  
avale mes couilles - "swallow my balls"


	7. Prize

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter?? Only two months since I posted the previous chapter???? Hell yeah~ 
> 
> As always, god bless my wonderful beta [DownToTheSea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DownToTheSea/pseuds/DownToTheSea) for being the absolute best!! Especially with this chapter. I was really having a hard time with a certain character and your kind words helped me find confidence in writing for them <3 Thank you for helping me get through the rough spots of this chapter <33
> 
> Hope y'all enjoy!! Please let me know if you do and stay safe, stay healthy out there!! Love you all <3

Jasmine had actually been well enough to receive visitors for three days now; her continued quarantine had been recommended by the royal physician as a precaution that she wouldn’t pass any lingering symptoms onto her guests. Her _ two _ guests.

Two suitors at once wasn’t exactly new. In the early days when princes began courting her, Jasmine would on occasion see multiple suitors in a single hour. The record was five - though mostly because her father had set that limit so as to not overwhelm her. But it had been years since she’d seen more than one within a month, let alone a single day. Her illness had delayed their time to see her, so it was only fair that she meet them both right away. 

It was strange, Jasmine felt...  _ excited  _ about the prospect of meeting them. She hadn’t been excited to meet a new prince since her third suitor had crossed Agrabah’s borders. And, well, that was a long time ago.

It was the build-up, she knew it was. She had heard bits and pieces of information about these princes from the doctors and Dalia - and that one time Jafar had visited her bedside. She didn’t expect much (she never did anymore) and Jasmine wasn’t one to cling to gossip, but there was something to hearing about a person before meeting them; the preconceived ideas about who they were and what they looked like. 

Though, she had an idea of what Prince Florian looked like. Just yesterday, Jasmine had allowed herself to step out onto her balcony and had spotted the young prince walking through the palace. She didn’t get a long look at him, but judging by his attire, it certainly was the German prince. And she had heard Florian’s name before he had arrived. She recalled the time his older brother had visited; she had accidentally walked in on a conversation between him and her father regarding a possible arranged marriage between her and Florian. She had only been thirteen at the time, but even then she despised the idea of having no choice in a future husband. Luckily her father had shut down any possibility of it. Still, that didn’t rule out the inevitable visit from Florian so he could properly ask for her hand himself.

And now he was here. 

As was the prince from France. 

Prince Adam had been living under the same roof for nearly two weeks, waiting for her to recover. Jasmine admired the dedication that few other princes would commit to, and she sympathized, especially since she highly doubted he’d be staying much longer. But then again, there was that time Jafar had forced his way into her room to complain about him. Whoever this prince was, Jafar didn’t like him. Jasmine decided that was a good enough reason to give him a chance.

Princes Florian and Adam. What did they have to offer? Gifts and compliments for her looks? Likely. They always did. But what else? Respect for her people and her kingdom? Therein lay the problem. What could two princes from vastly different worlds do for a culture and a city they hardly knew? 

“Here we go again,” Jasmine sighed as she stared into the mirror, watching Dalia touch up her hair. 

Jafar’s staff tapped against the floors as he walked briskly down the hallway, searching for Adam. Surely he’d be dressed by now and Jafar needed to speak to him before his audience with the princess.

He had first gone directly to Adam’s room, but the servant girl there had said a guard had already come for him. So now here he was, practically tripping over his own robes to catch up with him. 

Jafar turned a corner and immediately spotted him.

“My prince,” he said a little too hastily, too loudly. Adam, his male servant, and the guard with him stopped and turned. Jafar at once slowed his pace, his mask of indifference and calm sliding perfectly back into place.

“Vizier,” Adam returned with a small smirk. 

Jafar resisted the urge to roll his eyes as he stopped in front of them. He glanced at the guard, then to the servant. 

“Walk on. I’d like to have a few words with the prince before he meets our princess.”

The guard immediately placed a fist over his chest and bowed his head in obedience. The servant exchanged a look with Adam, who nodded. Jafar waited until the two were at the other end of the hall before he spoke again. “What’s your strategy?”

Adam blinked.

“My  _ strategy? _ Funny way of putting it. This is courtship, not war.”

“With Jasmine it might as well be. She will be resistant to your princely charms and whatever gifts you’ve brought to woo her with.”

“I thought Florian was supposed to be the charming one,” said Adam, that bratty sparkle in his eye distracting Jafar, who huffed.

“I’m serious, Adam-”   
“And so am I. I’ve been here for two weeks, you think I’m going to intentionally screw this up?”

“Yes.”

Adam paused, eyed Jafar’s face, then asked, “I thought you wanted Florian to win Jasmine’s heart. Isn’t he your better candidate?”

“And I thought you wanted to go back to France the moment she gave you the chance. And don’t give me that excuse that you’ve grown attached to the city. You haven’t left the palace since you arrived.”

Adam’s smile slipped away as he averted his gaze from Jafar, his brow furrowed.

Jafar knew it wasn’t because of their arrangement. Adam could have anyone in his bed at any time he wanted back in France. And while Jafar liked to think Adam would miss having sex with him specifically, he doubted it was enough of a reason. Then a new thought occurred…

“Do you want the throne?” he asked.

Adam looked up at that and Jafar instantly knew he was wrong. Adam was many things that were common in royalty: an air of superiority, resistance to taking responsibility for one's actions, constant greed, and, most notably, snobbishness. But what Adam lacked was ambition. That had been apparent enough when he had revealed his father was the reason he had even come here. Adam didn’t want to marry into a larger kingdom, he didn’t want the title of Sultan, or king.

“I don’t want to go back to France. Not yet,” Adam replied, finally meeting Jafar’s gaze. Those cool blue eyes looked haunted, but his words gave nothing specific away. “What do I do? To buy me some time at least.” 

Adam looked exquisite in his blue and white - the light blue silk jacket again, Jafar noted - with his gold hair neatly tied back, only a hint of makeup around his eyes, and his black heeled shoes that shone in the light.

“Your necktie is crooked,” Jafar said flatly, lifting his free hand to adjust it. “There.”

“Jafar…”

“Don’t draw attention to your gifts. Present them, yes, but don’t make it about the material. You are not buying her with them, you’re courting her. This meeting is about  _ her _ . Appeal to her as an equal, not about riches or even her beauty. And she  _ is _ beautiful. But the princess does not respond well to flattery or arrogance.” Jafar pointedly raised his eyebrow before continuing, “And whatever you do, do not compete with Florian. I know how much you like to show off how much better you think you are, but while this is a competition in a sense, don’t focus on what he is doing. The princess will see right through it.”

Adam opened his mouth, whether to ask a question or make a snarky comment, Jafar would never know. The guard that had been escorting Adam came back from around the corner.

Jafar wasn’t exactly in Adam’s face per se, but at some point during their conversation he had moved closer; at the sight of the guard, he took a generous step back. “It’s time. Good luck.”

He didn’t wait for Adam to reply; Jafar brushed past him towards the great hall without once looking back. He could feel Adam’s gaze on the back of his head until he turned the corner. As he put more distance between them, a thought crossed his mind that was more troubling than it should have been. 

_ Was last night the end of it? _

Dalia was fixing Jasmine's orange dress, making sure the train lay unwrinkled where it lay on the floor behind her. She was fussing, just doing something to pass the time while they waited for Jasmine’s father to enter the great hall first, as he always did. Jasmine glanced over to where he was whispering with Jafar. 

They were speaking too softly to hear anything, but the weary look Baba was giving Jafar was shifting into a more relieved one. Jafar’s gaze flickered to Jasmine, catching her attempts to listen in. She turned away, taking a deep breath. She didn’t want to deal with Jafar right now or any snide comments he might make about how she should approach the princes. As if he had any idea what it was like in her position. 

Jafar could scold and tear down her political views as much as he liked, but he had no idea how it felt to constantly be the center of attention of foreign princes. To be told how to act around them and be expected to keep one’s mouth shut about something disagreeable they’d said. 

The irony. Jasmine hadn’t forgotten how angry Jafar had been that day he had come to her bedside, supposedly because of Prince Adam. She wondered if he was anything like her; it certainly would explain why Jafar disliked him so. 

‘Give him a chance,’ was a sentence that Jasmine had had more than her fair share of hearing over the years. From Baba, from Jafar, from members of the court, and even from Dalia. Giving princes a chance wasn’t the problem, it never was. 

That ‘chance’ was in that first meeting, in what direction they tried to bring the conversation. How did the prince talk to her? Is he too focused on her looks? Is he putting too much pride in his gift? What has he said about Agrabah? Is what he’s saying about his arrival genuine? Is he just talking about himself? 

The chance was never the problem. It was how the prince squandered that chance. And how more often than not he made it all about him and what material objects he had brought in exchange for Jasmine; the biggest and shiniest of gifts must be enough to win the princess.

But Jasmine was a person. And she didn’t care to give a prince’s _ gifts _ a chance. She wanted the opportunity to give the prince one. A chance to prove he could make for a good Sultan for her people. She would not stop fighting for the title herself, but if that truly was a hopeless war, then the least she could be allowed was a husband who could rule the kingdom by her side. An equal who saw her as such. A friend who understood her views and trusted her judgment.

But such things were difficult to determine over the course of a single conversation. A conversation in which too many princes showed enough of their uglier colors to earn anything further.

She wondered if she would like Prince Adam’s colors. Strange circumstances, but maybe there was something to that… And it seemed he and Jafar disagreed often. Maybe... maybe...

“Are you alright?” Dalia’s voice dragged Jasmine from her thoughts; she blinked rapidly and met her gaze. 

“Yes, I’m fine.” She glanced over at Jafar, who was taking his place, ready to enter through the double doors with Baba. 

Of all the emotions Adam expected he’d be feeling at this moment,  _ nervous  _ was not one of them. Eager, yes. Relieved, absolutely. But nervous? Why the hell should he be nervous? This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? His ticket out of Agrabah so he could go home. He had never had any intentions of purposely messing up his meeting with Princess Jasmine, but now the thought of doing so brought a tension to his shoulders that no amount of rolling or pacing could ebb away. 

He had meant what he said to Jafar about not wanting to return home just yet. He could care less about the throne, or even the Princess’ hand in marriage. None of that mattered. It was strange… What had changed? Nothing! He couldn’t think straight about this right now, not when he was so close to… to what? 

Adam stood on the right-hand side of the great hall, Lumiere not far behind him, with guards stationed behind them. Meanwhile, Florian was on his left, with his own guards behind him, a significant amount of space between the two as they waited. Other nobles and guards stood on the opposite side of the room, staring back at them.

Florian lifted his left leg to scratch at his right ankle. Adam wondered if he was nervous too. If he was, his expression didn’t show it. He looked excited, ready. _ Charming.  _ Ugh. His brown hair looked perfect, not a single strand out of place, his cheeks clean-shaven, even his valiant red cape seemed to fall around his shoulders without fail. He looked heroic, the type of prince you’d read about in a storybook.

Adam had Plumette apply makeup today; not much, but enough to make his skin look good, his eyes a bit more prominent - everyone always told him that he had the most stunning blue eyes, it could only help to draw Jasmine’s attention to them. 

They waited.

Adam ran over the advice Jafar had given him, briefly wondering if he had only given it to him to ensure he failed in his courtship. What if Jasmine was the opposite of how Jafar had described her? What if she was offended he didn’t focus on her beauty? 

What if Florian made him look like a fool? Adam would never be able to live it down in the French courts. The King… Adam didn’t want to think about what his father might say or do should he come back humiliated as such. Then came the other possibility: What if the princess liked him?  _ Really _ liked him? It was an outcome he wouldn’t be prepared for.

But Adam had no more time to consider these possibilities.

The double doors at the top of the stairs opened. Adam could hardly blink; a whisper from Lumiere behind him reminded him to breathe. Had he been holding it? The Sultan came through the doors first, Jafar only a step behind with Iago perched on his shoulder. The tension in Adam’s shoulders eased somewhat at the sight of him, but Jafar kept his gaze straight ahead, avoiding any and all eye contact.

The Sultan came to a stop at the foot of the stairs while Jafar moved off to the side, directly facing Adam; they finally locked eyes and Adam almost shivered. Jafar’s gaze was cold as stone, impersonal, as if they were only meeting now and hadn’t spent the previous night together. That gaze flickered to the side with a subtle gesture of his chin. Adam forced himself to tear his gaze away in the direction Jafar was referring to. 

His mouth went dry.

Through the doors and down the stairs stepped the most beautiful woman Adam had ever seen. Behind her trailed her handmaiden and a bengal tiger. But Adam only had eyes for Princess Jasmine, elegance radiating off her in droves; her dark hair was beautifully tied up behind a gold tiara, her orange dress fit her frame perfectly with the train behind her adding to her presence, almost ethereal. If he had not been waiting two weeks to meet her, Adam would not have believed she had just gotten over being severely ill.

Arriving beside her father at the foot of the stairs, she looked to each prince, bowing her head slightly. Adam felt heat rise to his cheeks as those dark eyes lingered on him for a moment before turning to Florian.

The Sultan spoke first, “May I present my daughter: Princess Jasmine.”

Florian bowed with a flourish of his hand, one leg jutting out so he could elegantly go lower. Adam felt a pit settle in his stomach that tasted of anger; shouldn’t  _ he _ have been allowed to make his introductions first!?

“Prince Florian of Germany and it is a great pleasure to meet you, Princess,” said Florian, rising. “My brother Ferdinand visited your country several years back and he told me of your beauty, even then. I must say, no words he spoke or any that have been spoken could have possibly done you justice.”

“Thank you, Prince Florian. I have heard your name as well,” Jasmine replied with not nearly the same amount of enthusiasm. “I remember your brother being very kind during his visit.”

Damn, Florian was working the familiarity of his brother. Must be nice to have ties. Before Adam could linger on the thought any longer, he realized every pair of eyes was on him. It was usually a feeling he rather enjoyed, but now… 

He briefly locked eyes with Jafar, who looked at him expectantly. Right. His turn.

“Your highness, I am Prince Adam of France and it is an honor finally being able to meet you.” Adam bowed with as much grace as he could. “I was pleased to hear of your recovery, and I’m glad to see you looking so well.”

“Thank you, Prince Adam. I’ve heard a great deal about you as well.”

Adam nearly blanched. What had the Sultan told her? What had  _ Jafar _ told her?

She continued, “I hear you’re an admirer of Agrabah architecture.”

“I am, indeed. Your palace and the city are both stunning!”

Jasmine’s smile grew slightly. 

“It is quite an exquisite city, indeed!” said Florian, his voice an octave higher than Adam had ever heard it. Despite the betrayal in his tone, he still looked as he had a moment ago with that same excited but cool demeanour. “Your highness, if I may, I’d like to present a gift from my own country to you.”

Florian nodded to one of the men behind him, who scurried out of the double doors behind them with a second guard; they returned only a few seconds later, carrying a tall, covered object that when settled in the space between Florian and Jasmine stood at about five-feet. Once it was set down, Florian’s men gently removed the white cloth covering, then returned to their places behind him. The gift was a shiny, ornate porcelain vase with splashes of red, blue, and green leaf-like designs along its white sides, a gold rim at the top, and a black and gold base. It was one of the most beautiful vases Adam had ever seen. Jasmine’s jaw dropped at the sight of it.

This was it. Jasmine had found her husband. And all he had to do was be charming and bring a vase. Adam wanted to disappear into the floor. He glanced over to Jafar... and his misery stopped short.

Jafar was staring at the vase as well, but it was not in awe. Or admiration. It was a mix of disappointment and amusement with his mouth was set in a firm line, as if to keep from chuckling, his eyes half-lidded in that way he had them when he was bored or irritated, and (although difficult to tell from the metal he always wore) his shoulders had slumped slightly. Those dark eyes met Adam’s and that line curled into a smile. 

Hope sparked in Adam’s chest. This wasn’t over. Jafar certainly didn’t think so at least. 

“Oh, that’s… lovely,” said Jasmine, her brow furrowed.

Florian’s confident air had taken a hit, and for the first time Adam could tell the little dumbass was forcing a smile. 

“It was crafted by the best sculptors in the German court, who make everything in our castle,” he said. “It is… sturdy and matches various decor so it can fit in almost any room. And it can house a multitude of plants.”

“Like trees?” Iago squawked from Jafar’s shoulder. There was a soft tremor of stifled laughs from around the room; Adam bit his lower lip to keep his own down.

For the briefest of moments, if it were possible of Mr. Right, Adam was certain there was murder in Florian’s eye. If he were in his place, Adam wouldn’t blame him. But for now, he liked that stupid bird. The quip seemed to amuse Jafar as well, whose eyebrow quirked and his smile spread just a hair more.

Both Jasmine and her handmaiden were wearing the same look of secondhand embarrassment. The Sultan seemed to be the only one still in awe of the vase. 

“It is a beautiful gift, Prince Florian,” he said. “I’m sure the princess greatly  _ appreciates _ it.” He and Jasmine exchanged a look. 

Her own forced smile returned as she added, “Yes, thank you, Prince Florian. It is… a charming vase.”

As if trained like a dog, Florian seemed to perk up at the compliment, his genuine smile returning. 

“No, thank  _ you, _ your highness, for allowing me a moment of your time. If it would be permitted and if you would like, I would like to take a walk with you later.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” the Sultan replied for his daughter. “But first, I think Princess Jasmine should hear from Prince Adam.”

This time, as every eye in the room focused on Adam, he was ready. 

_ Don’t focus on your gift, make it about her, _ he reminded himself.

“I would just like to say, your highness, that I was deeply saddened when I arrived two weeks ago. I was eager to meet you, to see if the rumors of your beauty were all and more. If you truly were the best Agrabah had to offer.” He paused for emphasis, sparing Jafar a glance, who had a single eyebrow raised, interested to see where Adam was going with this. “I was wrong. You weren’t.”

Jasmine raised her brow at that; there were a few soft murmurs from the nobles and Iago squawked. Still, Adam continued, “You were not the best Agrabah had to offer, because you were not being  _ offered _ . You are not a prize for Prince Florian and I to compete over. I, too, brought a gift, but it is more of an obligation than a material thing to purchase your affections with. If I could, I would just offer myself.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Adam saw Jafar’s eyes widen. Shit. Not like that. “I mean, I’d prefer to share time in your company.” Jasmine frowned. Fuck. “To get to know one another… Not as royalty, but as any courting pair.” 

The awkward tension in the room collectively relaxed. Thankfully, the Sultan hadn’t seemed to have noticed the unintentional innuendo. Back on track, Adam continued, “In my time here I have learned much. Agrabah is more than its royalty. Your country has its beautiful horizon, its incredible buildings and culture, and its beautiful people.” Adam couldn’t help it, he stole a glimpse of Jafar as he said that. It was so quick, he hadn’t registered Jafar’s reaction. He focused instead on Jasmine’s, whose brow had softened and her attention he held in the palm of his hand.

“Which is why I think you’ll appreciate the gift I brought.” He turned over his shoulder. “Lumiere, if you would.”

Lumiere bowed his head and motioned for Adam’s gift to be brought in. The doors behind them opened again as two Frenchmen carried in a flat object on either side; the object itself was covered with a large gray canvas cloth. Adam took the moment of Jasmine’s distraction to once again look to Jafar, whose gaze was hardly on the concealed object. He was eyeing Adam from head to toe in what Adam would like to describe as awe. Adam ruined it by waggling his eyebrows, to which Jafar rolled his eyes. 

The gift was brought forward and set parallel to where Florian’s giant vase sat at the center of the room; the two French guards scurried back behind the doors. Adam stepped forward and took hold of a corner of the cloth.

“This was commissioned by an artist from the town, Villeneuve, near to my castle. It is a piece of craftsmanship from a true Frenchman, the people.” Adam took handfuls of the canvas, then whipped it off, revealing the anticipated gift: It was a painting of Saint Michael slaying the dragon, framed in a thin but beautiful gold frame. 

Iago shifted on Jafar’s shoulder, his feathers tickling his ear, but he did not move, or breathe, as he watched Jasmine out of the corner of his eye. She had held her breath from the moment Adam had said who had created the painting, to its unveiling. Her shoulders relaxed in an exhale as she took in the gift. It was beautiful, but that wasn’t why she was so interested. 

The Princess had an affinity for the common people, including the art they put out. It was a smart move presenting her with such a piece. 

_ Well done, my prince _ , thought Jafar. 

Adam must have sensed that Jasmine was pleased, for he couldn’t keep the smug smirk out of his expression; luckily for him, Jasmine wasn’t as familiar with Adam’s face as Jafar was, so she likely didn’t register it. 

“It’s beautiful,” she stated, sounding more genuine than Jafar had ever heard in her compliments of princes’ gifts. 

Florian had been a grave disappointment. All he had brought was a good reputation, his natural charm (which only went so far), and an ugly vase. Nothing to show he would be a good ruler, or even a good husband for that matter; both were things Jasmine needed to look for in a future partner. 

It was a terrible shame, really. Jafar could see himself using Florian quite well if he obtained the position of Sultan. Florian was young, naive, but had a good sense of the power he held over his military and an awareness of the nations around him. Jafar could have easily influenced that into the perfect puppet and used him to shape Agrabah how he saw fit. With Florian married to Jasmine, Agrabah would have been as good as Jafar’s, even without the prize he coveted still. 

But there Adam was, winning Jasmine’s attention. Prince Adam, the little brat from France who had no ambition, no chance… and yet he was the one Jafar had given advice to.  _ He _ was the one Jafar felt a swell of pride for as Jasmine approached the painting to get a closer look. Adam, who had seemed almost nervous at the start of today, who was now standing there with his arms behind his back and his chin high, looking strong and every inch the prince he was.

It wasn’t unusual for Jafar to find himself standing off to the side while Hamed and Jasmine argued. Sometimes he even attempted to enter the conversation, either to turn it in a direction that favored him or just to annoy Jasmine. This time, however, he chose to let them have at it as he and Dalia watched and listened and waited for it to end.

“Prince Florian would make a good ruler and a good husband-”

“Then why don’t you marry him, Baba?” 

“Jasmine, please, I’m trying to be reasonable here.”

“Florian said nothing out there that proved to me that he has any semblance of who his people are and at what volume his culture speaks. He’s ignorant of who he rules over; a leader should be aware of their subjects.”

Jafar glanced over at Dalia, who stood there, hanging onto every word so when Jasmine would inevitably rant to her later, she’d be able to keep up. At least, that’s what Jafar figured they did after these father-daughter squabbles. 

Dalia looked tired. Not physically, she looked healthy and refreshed as she always did. But emotionally, it was obvious she was just as tired of her lady’s pickiness as everybody else. He wondered if she ever voiced her opinions on the matter to her princess. 

Her gaze caught his and they shared a look of ‘Here we go again.’ 

“That painting, while beautiful, wasn’t much.”

“That painting was the perfect gift,” Jasmine countered. “Prince Adam showed that he values his common people's craftsmanship; something that any other person in their kingdom could commission, not just royalty. It wasn’t about presenting something fancy, expensive, and impractical that he bought. But something to appreciate every day and to remember him by.”

“Prince Florian is from Germany, a country we have ties to.”

“And Prince Adam is from France, a country we could  _ potentially  _ have a strong allyship with.”

Something clicked inside Jafar’s brain. Surely, she wasn’t saying she already-?

He took a step closer to the pair. 

“Princess, are you saying you’re  _ choosing _ Prince Adam?” he asked.

Jasmine frowned, her eyes hardening.

“I haven’t chosen anybody yet. But… I will  _ consider  _ Prince Adam. I will… give him a chance.”

Hamed and Jafar stared at her in silence for a moment. Consider a prince? Hamed had had his heart set on Florian, but the mere possibility of a chosen husband in the near future seemed to be enough to render him speechless. 

Jasmine looked her father in the eye. “Consider. Not choose.  _ Consider _ .”

Jafar felt the words bubble up to his mouth before he could stop them, “Perhaps he should extend his stay until the harvest festival? Should the princess agree to marry him, then it would be a perfect opportunity to announce it. If you reject him, Princess, then at least he will return to his country with good thoughts on Agrabah, which would be politically beneficial.”

Jasmine thought for a moment. Then, finally she said, “That’s reasonable.”

Jafar released the breath he had been holding. That gave Adam ten days. Ten more days to properly make his case. Ten more days in Jafar’s bed. 

Prince Florian sat at the edge of his bed with his head in his hands as his servants quickly packed up the few belongings he had brought. He had told Ferdinand that this trip was hopeless. That Princess Jasmine would not fall in love with him so quickly; life didn’t work that way. But Ferdinand had been so  _ sure _ and he had encouraged his little brother to go. 

And for the briefest of times, Florian thought he had a chance. Perhaps if Prince Adam wasn’t here… But he was and there was no changing that. As much as the Sultan and the Vizier seemed to like him, they were never the ones he needed to impress, and now it was too late. 

And yet… Florian wasn’t so heartbroken. Princess Jasmine was lovely, but there was another girl who Florian had hoped to one day win the heart of. One that Ferdinand had told him was fruitless due to her overprotective stepmother and Queen. 

_ Overprotective, my foot _ , Florian would always think.  _ That woman is downright evil. _

Perhaps now that Jasmine’s hand was off the table, Ferdinand would support Florian’s hopes of the princess in the neighboring kingdom. 

“My lord.”

Florian looked up to find one of his men standing beside him. “Yes?”

“There’s a nobleman here to see you.”

It was a shame they had no champagne, for Adam was certain that he’d drink the whole bottle right now. He didn’t say goodbye to Prince Florian. Though he was sorely tempted, even to just rub it in his face that he had been invited to stay longer and Florian had been outright rejected when Jasmine had returned to the great hall. She hadn’t chosen Adam, but Florian was without a doubt out of the game. 

That in itself was cause for celebration. 

Lumiere was proud of his prince, clapping him on the back and delivering praise for how well he had done; he recounted the whole scene to Plumette, whose enthusiasm also grew as he went on. Lumiere was always good at embellishing a story, and Adam listened with a smile. 

“...And Prince Florian hung his head and excused himself permanently from the room!”

“And what of our lovely prince!?”

Lumiere’s grin widened as he finished with, “And our beautiful, most charming Prince Adam has been invited to stay until the harvest festival in ten days! During which time he may woo Princess Jasmine without the stuffy company of Florian!”

“Oh mon! Félicitations, mon prince!" she cheered, rising to her feet. “Can you believe it? Only a few weeks ago we thought we’d be on our way home the moment the princess recovered. But now look at you, my prince! Could you imagine, you may actually have found a wife!”

Lumiere exclaimed something in agreement, but at the word ‘wife’ Adam’s attention honed in on the concept. 

A wife. Marriage. Adam actually had a chance with the princess… and she was  _ so  _ beautiful… But marriage was never something he ever truly considered for himself. Getting married, sure he knew it would happen one day, but marriage was an entirely different animal. And if he continued to play his cards right, it might come sooner than he anticipated. The proud joy in his chest began to fizzle out, like a candle burning all night and running out of wax. 

He wasn’t sure how he felt about this. Of course he had considered the possibility many times over the past couple of weeks, but now the reality was here and he did not know what to do with it. 

He idly tapped his index finger against the cushion of the settee he was sitting on. Plumette and Lumiere had moved on from excited bouncing to dancing, both looking incredibly happy as they did so.

“I did not realize you two were so fond of Agrabah,” Adam commented dryly. 

Lumiere didn’t dare tear his gaze away from Plumette as he replied, “Agrabah is a beautiful kingdom, but that is not why we’re so pleased.”

“No?”

“No,” said Plumette, “we’re proud of  _ you _ , my prince! And to a princess so beautiful. It’s wonderful!”

“Yes,” Adam sighed, “I suppose it is.”

Jafar’s tower sat in a rather quiet part of the palace, where the only major sounds came from the sea or were carried on the air from the city. It was very  _ Jafar _ . Solitary, calm. Both things that Adam knew better about him. On the outside, yes, but Jafar was never alone; he always had his damn bird around. And while the mask he put on every day for the Sultan said otherwise, Jafar was anything but calm. Or perhaps that was just because Adam brought out the opposite in him. 

The tower was particularly silent as Adam made his way up the many steps, the heels of his shoes tapping against the stone as he went. Eventually he made it to the door at the top and knocked three times. 

There was no answer. Adam frowned and knocked again, louder. 

“Jafar!? Are you there?”

Nothing. 

Adam tried the handle and was surprised to feel it give way; the door swung open with a soft  _ creak _ . He poked his head in and glanced around. “Jafar?”

Empty. 

_ Must be attending to business _ , he figured, opening the door further and stepping inside. 

The study was, like most things in Agrabah, beautiful. But also crowded in an endearing and lived-in way that expressed Jafar’s personality in ways he never could elsewhere in the palace. There were several rooms of the study, all interconnected with wide open archways. Every shelf was lined with books, every surface covered in more books, ledgers, or papers. On the edge of his largest desk sat an unfinished, likely cold cup of tea. 

Adam ran a finger over the decorative snake statues with a smirk. One guess as to what Jafar’s favorite animal was. If snakes could grow wings, he was certain Jafar would own one instead of the parrot. 

He stepped further in and noticed a door peeking out behind a curtain. He had seen it before during his visits here, but it was always closed. Now, it was cracked open. Adam swallowed. Did he dare? 

Of course he did.

He pushed back the curtain all the way; he pressed against the wood and it swung open without hesitation, revealing a brief winding descending staircase. He followed it down. At the bottom was another door, though this one was closed completely. 

Adam opened it without hesitation and was pleased to find exactly what he hoped: a bedroom. If the study was cluttered with books and statues and desks and everything Jafar needed to do his job, then the bedroom was the same in that it was there for its own purpose: sleep. The simple room was smaller than anticipated, but still had more leeway than a servant’s quarters. There was enough space for the large black and red bed at the center; off to the side between the bed and the outside wall was a red curtain that separated the bedroom from a small latrine. On the opposite side of the bed was a large wardrobe, its wooden doors cracked open.

Adam was tempted to open it all the way and sift through the clothes inside, see if Jafar actually owned anything other than gold, red, or black. But perhaps that would be going too far, so he left it and walked over to the small window to peek outside. Just like the top of the tower, he could see the blue expanse of the sea from here. He inhaled the faint scent of the saltwater and smiled. 

“How do you find the view from here?”

Adam nearly jumped out of his skin as he whirled around to find Jafar standing in the doorway, his arms at his sides, his staff likely left upstairs, and an amused look on his face. Bastard was pleased he had spooked him. 

“Spectacular,” Adam replied without commitment. “Are you angry?”

“Not as much as I probably should be, though I figured I’d be bringing you down here eventually.”

The implication sent a pleasant tingle down Adam’s spine. 

Jafar continued, “I do hope you didn’t touch anything while you pried into my personal belongings.”

“Well,” Adam smirked, “I considered humping your bedsheets so you’d know you missed out on fucking me into them yourself.” 

Jafar took a single step inside the room and closed the door. He eyed Adam from head to toe, folded his arms, then said, “Go on then.”

Without hesitation, Adam reached up and untied his cravat, his eyes not leaving Jafar’s. Once all of his clothes were left in a pile on the floor, he crawled on top of the bed, hands groping over the smooth, silk red sheets. 

“I’m sure these are quite expensive,” he commented. 

Jafar said nothing as he watched him. 

Adam lay flat on his stomach, stretching out his limbs comfortably.  _ Fuck _ , it was a nice bed. The possibilities of what Jafar would do to him in it… Adam rolled his hips against the sheets, his hardening cock trapped between them and his stomach. He moaned and repeated the motion. “It would be a shame to ruin them.”

He took it slow, rubbing himself against the bed with his eyes closed so he could focus on the feel of silk against skin. Once in a while he would open them to see if Jafar was touching himself, or moving at all; neither of which he was doing. Rude. Jafar kept his dark gaze on him as he remained close to the door. 

After the fourth time he looked up, Adam began to thrust a little faster, frustrated that Jafar wasn’t doing anything. 

“Your precious Florian is gone now, isn’t he?” he said, hoping the casual conversation would spur Jafar away from the door to shut him up with his mouth. “Is that where you were? Kissing him goodbye?”

“I’m surprised you didn’t see him off yourself,” Jafar replied. “Would have been a good opportunity to show him up one last time.”

This isn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want to talk about Florian while he was doing this. He wanted Jafar to come closer and give him a reason to make a mess in his sheets. 

“Did Princess Jasmine see him off?”

“No.”

“Did you see the way she was looking at me?”

Jafar raised his head, his jaw clenched. _ _

_ Got you.  _ Adam continued, “She’s a pillar of virtue, true, but I caught the way those beautiful brown eyes of hers raked over my body. Do you think she wants me already?”

“Do not speak of her.”

“Why not? She’s the reason you get to have me for another ten days. Would be rude to not even think about-”

“Shut up!” Jafar snapped. Adam stopped moving. He furrowed his brow.

This wasn’t Jafar being playfully annoyed, this was pure rage. He was  _ actually _ offended by the idea of talking about Jasmine during their little games. Sure, he’d known the princess most of her life but… Adam sat up.  _ No fucking way… _

“Are you in love with her?” The question hung in the air for a moment and Adam couldn’t quite believe how  _ furious _ the thought made him. “You’re in love with her!”

Jafar finally closed the space between them and Adam almost wondered if Jafar would cross a line for saying that. But despite the fire he saw in Jafar’s eyes, he made no move to strike him.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” he snapped. “We practically grew up together! While I would not say we’re friends, we are certainly not...  _ that _ .”

“Then what exactly are you to each other?”

“Complicated. I do  _ not _ love her, but I have enough respect for her that I don’t want you talking about her like that.” His dark eyes bore into Adam’s. “Is that clear?”

Adam nodded, “Understood.” There was a beat of silence before Adam blurted out, “If I marry her, will we still see each other like this?”

Jafar shook his head.

“You won’t marry her. You might have gotten your foot in the door today, but she will never agree to marry you. I know her too well. I know  _ you _ too well.”

Adam nodded again, relief washing over him, dousing the worried thoughts of marriage from earlier. He sat there awkwardly for a moment, his now half-hard cock still in full view. 

“I ruined this just now, didn’t I?” he observed.

Jafar smirked.

“I wouldn’t say that,” he said, hands moving to his belt. “If I recall, a moment ago you were going to ruin my bedsheets.”

The spark reignited in Adam’s belly at the teasing tone in Jafar’s voice and he reached down and gave himself a few long strokes; he touched himself as he watched Jafar undress in the late afternoon light. Last night he wasn’t sure if that would be the only time Jafar would let him see him naked. He was glad it wasn’t.

Adam grabbed a handful of the sheets and wrapped them around his aching cock; he thrust forward into them and bit back a moan. Completely undressed, Jafar stepped over to the bedside table and pulled out a fresh tin of lube. Adam shuddered and tightened the fist around himself. 

God, he wanted that beautiful cock inside him  _ now _ . 

Jafar crawled onto the bed behind him.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered into Adam’s ear, placing a quick kiss to his shoulder. “Spread your legs. Good, like that.” 

Adam slowed his movements on his cock as he felt a finger circle his entrance before pressing in. He yelped Jafar’s name, pushing his ass down against him. 

“Shh shh, my prince,” Jafar cooed. “Be a good boy and I’ll give you more. Would you like that?”

“Yes.”

Jafar entered a second finger, thrusting both in and out in time with Adam’s slowed strokes. Adam didn’t speed up, knowing he’d probably come like that if he did. Then, the fingers were gone and Adam could feel Jafar lining up the head of his lubed cock. He hadn’t opened him up with his fingers as much as he normally did, but Adam didn’t care. 

“Please, Jafar,” he whimpered. 

“Good boy.” Without much other warning than that, Jafar thrust up into him.

Adam gasped, his head falling back onto Jafar’s shoulder; his hand released his own cock so he could steady himself on Jafar’s thighs. They stayed there for a moment, chest-to-back, kneeling on the soft silk sheets. Jafar kept his arms around Adam, his face buried in the crook of his neck.

“We fit so well together,” he said, his voice strained.

“Yes..” 

Jafar pulled back, then thrust hard up into Adam, earning a loud moan. He repeated the motion again and again. He set the pace like that: rough, hard, practically holding Adam up. He shifted slightly to get a better angle and Adam saw stars. 

“You did so well today,” said Jafar. “My beautiful prince. Do you want me to touch you?”

Adam whimpered, “Yes- Oh god-”

Jafar slid a hand down and stroked Adam’s cock in time with his rough thrusts. His thumb brushed over the head once, twice, then Adam came with an obscene shout. Jafar kept thrusting, fucking him through it. Moments later, Jafar followed him over the edge with a breathy moan of “ _ My prince _ ” in Adam’s ear. 

Neither moved as they settled in the afterglow. Adam could feel the hot drip of cum leaking down his inner thigh. Jafar placed soft kisses along his neck, his neatly groomed beard tickling Adam’s earlobe. Adam sighed and hummed under Jafar’s lips. 

He didn’t look at the state of the sheets, but he was sure he had, in fact, ruined them.

Dalia felt joy swell in her chest at the sound of Jasmine’s laugh. It had been a long time since she’d heard her lady, her friend, genuinely laugh at something a visiting prince had said. Dalia only wished she were close enough to know what it was. If she asked later, Jasmine would likely tell her, but Dalia wouldn’t push it. Perhaps it would be best to let Jasmine have it to keep it to herself.

Dalia, Rajah, and the manservant Lumiere were walking several feet behind their respective princess and prince. It was only proper that Dalia chaperone, but Lumiere’s presence wasn’t exactly necessary; Dalia figured it was for Prince Adam’s sake that he had a witness on his side should Jasmine decide she didn’t like him and feed him to Rajah. 

Rajah, who had growled when Prince Adam had gotten too close. Usually the tiger was pretty neutral on Jasmine’s suitors and had been the same for Adam until he was about a foot away. Perhaps his sensitive nose did not like the scent of French perfume, which Dalia had thought was nice. 

Adam stole a glance over his shoulder to their company - specifically to Lumiere, who nodded encouragingly. Lumiere was a funny man, Dalia thought. Handsome, if not for that silly mustache, but with bright eyes and a bouncy personality that Dalia found refreshing. Most valets to princes were cold, indifferent, or they always seemed exhausted. It was nice being able to speak with one without him turning his nose at her, as if they didn’t basically have the exact same job.

Instead, Lumiere was much more friendly, kinder, and had kissed her hand when they had introduced themselves. As Prince Adam and Jasmine spoke, she and Lumiere, too, got to know one another. Lumiere told her how much he was enjoying the kingdom, how vastly different it was, but that he enjoyed the amount of warmth and sun they got here; he told her of his lover, Plumette, to which Dalia felt a vague, distant sense of disappointment that she shrugged off and adorned instead joy for him. A man like him deserved to be happy with a wonderful woman. 

Of course, their conversation eventually led back to why they were both on this walk and Dalia lowered her voice so as to not catch the ear of the subject of her question, “Is he what he seems?”

“Oh, the master?” Lumiere lowered his voice too, though not nearly as much as Dalia had. He hardly seemed to know what ‘soft spoken’ was. “He is… honest. He…”

“You seem to be at a loss for words for your prince.” Not a good sign, especially coming from a verbose man. 

Lumiere recovered. “My prince says more with his actions than his words, mademoiselle. Not that he’s not a talker, but how he expresses his feelings, his true feelings, can be seen more in  _ how _ he expresses them than how he  _ says _ them.”

Dalia watched the prince in question, with his washed out colors framed with lace. It had been a long time since Jasmine had shown interest in any of her suitors, and while Dalia trusted her judgment, she worried for her. There was something in those pretty blue eyes that reeked of trouble, and Lumiere’s words hadn’t quelled her concern. 

Her thoughts returned back to that morning when Jafar had burst into Jasmine’s chambers. He had been  _ so _ angry and the only thing Dalia knew for certain was that Prince Adam was the cause. Jasmine had taken it as a good omen. But not knowing what exactly had been said or done to infuriate him bothered Dalia. Was it something that Jasmine would have agreed with, or would she also have been just as furious? However, if it was something that would anger her then surely Jafar would have told her by now and Prince Adam would be on his way home already.

It was not that Dalia didn’t trust Prince Adam, but her first impression had been tainted before even meeting him. She had heard enough gossip from guards and other servants enough to know that Jafar and Prince Adam had practically been at each other's throats since his arrival. Butting heads with the Royal Vizier wasn’t a good look on a visiting prince and if he had been doing it simply to relieve his boredom while he waited for Jasmine, then that was not a good look either. 

Jasmine grinned and let out a soft, brief chuckle. 

Then again… perhaps Jasmine was right. If Prince Adam and Jafar did not get along, then it could only be a good thing for Jasmine. If she were to marry Adam, then Jasmine would not have to fear Adam constantly taking the Vizier’s side on issues like the Sultan did. 

Prince Adam was smiling too. And it was a handsome smile. If there was something secretly beastly about him, then she would keep a watch out for it. If not, then marriage could finally be in her best friend’s future. 

Adam tugged hard on the red silk cloth holding his wrists in place as his jaw dropped and his back arched off the bed. He knew he must be putting on quite a show in the height of ecstasy with his legs spread, limbs bound to the bedposts, blindfolded, with a hickey on one shoulder and a bite mark on the other, his skin flushed and covered in a thin coating of sweat. 

He slumped back against the sheets with a heavy exhale. 

“Fuck!” 

Jafar chuckled from where he was kneeled between Adam’s legs; he eased his long fingers out of him and Adam could feel the bed shifting.

“You held out longer than I gave you credit for,” Jafar said somewhere off to his left. There was the vague splashing of water hitting water and then the bed dipped again as Jafar cleaned him up.

“I’m full of surprises,” Adam replied, wishing he could emphasize with a wink. “Are you going to untie me now?”

“Not just yet.”

An excited shiver ran through Adam as Jafar straddled him, his hard cock bobbing against Adam’s stomach. 

Jafar leaned in, his hot breath on Adam’s cheek. “I’m going to have you open your mouth for me. If you need me to stop or back off, do  _ not _ communicate with your teeth. Snap your fingers and I’ll stop immediately. Sound fair?”

“Yes,” said Adam, nodding eagerly.

“Good.” The breath on his face vanished and Jafar adjusted himself on top of him so he could line his cock up with Adam’s lips without putting his weight on his chest. “Open.”

Adam did as he was told, craning his neck slightly. The head of Jafar’s cock passed his lips, settling in his mouth. Jafar moaned. “That’s… my prince.”

He pulled out halfway then slid further in, his cock bumping against the back of Adam’s throat. Adam had shown him a while ago that he didn’t have much of a gag reflex, so taking him in as far as he was was hardly a challenge. Adam hummed around him and he heard Jafar softly curse under his breath. 

Adam didn’t move his head, letting Jafar use his mouth as he pleased. Damn, he could already feel his arousal building again as Jafar’s thrusts increased just a little bit and he was whispering a string of praises and images that went straight to Adam’s cock. 

“Just like that.”

“Do you know just how pretty you are… with your lips stretched over my cock?”

“Hollow your- yes… you know.”

“If only I could have you like this at council meetings. Just kneeling before me the entire time, keeping my cock warm in your mouth.”

“That’s right, my prince.”

Jafar came with only a grunt as a warning. He pulled out halfway so Adam could suck on the tip and swallow every drop.

At last satiated, Jafar collapsed beside him, his face pressed against Adam’s chest as they both caught their breath. His arms brushed against Adam’s as he reached up to untie his wrists. 

Free at last, Adam removed the blindfold. He blinked a few times, then took in the sight of Jafar bent slightly as he untied the silk from Adam’s ankles, briefly rubbing the skin there. Adam said nothing and let Jafar continue his aftercare. It was… sweet. 

Warmth flooded Adam’s cheeks that had nothing to do with the exertion he and Jafar had just been sharing in. He shook his head.  _ Stupid. _

Late at night, far from Agrabah, a ship was sailing home. She wasn’t an old ship by any means; there was hardly a splinter to be found and the paint job still smelled if you put your nose close enough. She had been to sea three times now. The first was the day she had been given to a young prince as a birthday gift less than a year ago. Then, he took her on his trip to court a beautiful princess. Something had gone wrong and now he was taking his lovely ship back home to Germany. 

Florian drummed his fingers along the side of the ship as he looked out over the calm sea. The stars were out, but he wasn’t in any mood to gaze at them. 

Something had gone wrong in Agrabah and he knew there would be whispers about his failure for weeks at court. Not that Florian ever really cared what nobles thought. It was his parents and brother who he felt he had disappointed. They had put more faith into Florian’s success than Florian ever did. It was fine; he had plenty of chances at happiness waiting at home.

But while he had already recovered from the rejection, he doubted Prince Adam would be there for much longer either. Adam had made an excellent first impression on Jasmine, yes, but during the week Florian had gotten to know him, he found Adam wanting. Prince Adam was arrogant, self-serving, and, most egregiously, a deceiver. 

He hadn’t been sure at first. Over the course of his stay, Florian believed he was finding evidence where there was coincidence, reading far too much into interactions. The Royal Vizier’s sudden interest in support of him had thrown Florian’s suspicions awry and he chalked it up to the romantic in him. 

Then Adam had presented himself to Jasmine, and the princess was pleased. But she hadn’t been the only one. 

Florian, forgotten to the side of the room, read every Agrabahian face, watching them all be deemed impressed… and then he got to Jafar. He had expected him to be silently fuming or irritated, or at the very least wearing a mask of indifference. But no, Florian saw Jafar look at Adam with the softest expression he’d ever seen on the vizier’s face. He could see the pride, the  _ affection _ . 

That was when Florian knew Jafar was having an affair with Prince Adam. 

Princess Jasmine was smart and if she could not find another reason to dismiss Adam, then she would eventually figure it out too. Florian only hoped for her sake that she figured it out before Adam formally proposed. 

Florian would not tell her. Not just because it would sound ridiculous coming from a man who had just lost the battle to his romantic rival, and not because it could potentially be a political problem to accuse the Royal Vizier of such an affair. No, Florian chose to keep his mouth shut for another reason: Because he knew that whatever was going on between Jafar and Adam, it was mutual. Again he cursed the romantic in him, for he couldn’t help wishing that they realized it themselves. Let Adam cease his courtship with Princess Jasmine and instead look to the one he could find true happiness with... Or perhaps Florian was just dreaming of a happy ending for them. He did not know the intricacies of their relationship and could not jump to such conclusions easily. So he kept his mouth shut.

Despite the good will he wished upon Agrabah, its people, its royals, its vizier and its visiting prince, Florian was quite sure that he was escaping something dangerous. After all, he wasn’t the only one who had figured it out.


End file.
